My Skin Is
by scarletrose92
Summary: “Heard Jewboy was coming home.” Kenny turned to look at Cartman. "What? Kyle?" "Yep. Wendy told me. Met up with him in France. Dude he’s been in boarding school up there. Freaking Lame.” Style. Rating will change.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there. Yea I know another Kyle-leaves-comes-back-and-he-and-Stan-bang story but really the way the show is right now, I think that the two would just grow up as brothers. One of them has to leave so the sexual stuff can, you know, happen. Yes the title is based on the song Skin Is, My by Andrew Bird. Ahhhh such a good song!

Disclaimer: disclaimed

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It was a typical Wednesday evening in South Park. Slightly cloudy with a wind-chill, temperatures in the low forties high thirties and the smoky aroma of destruction filling the night air. Somewhere south of the mountains and north of mainstreet, a teenager named Kyle Broflovski was walking home from soccer practice.

He tucked a few stray red locks behind his ears and wiped his sweaty forehead. Breathing out slowly and closing his eyes momentarily, he let the breeze cool his scorching skin and erratic pulse. Retrieving his phone from the duffel bag holding his soccer equipment, he checked the missed calls. Sometime while reading texts from Token, Kyle became acutely aware of fumes billowing from the roof top of a house that seemed eerily close in location to his own. He flipped the phone shut and quickened his steps.

Upon rounding the corner, Kyle realized two facts. One: the smoke was coming from a fire on the tree located in his front lawn and two: Eric Cartman was standing just beside said tree with a gas can. Surveying the damage, Kyle immediately came to understand that the fat boy had launched Kristalnacht on the entire Jewish population of South Park, which consisted solely of the Broflovski household. Every window of the house had been shattered by stones except for the small one in the top left corner near the roof (coincidently Kyle's room) that apparently Eric had neither the energy nor hand-eye coordination to reach. On the front door the fatass had spray painted a monumental red swastika .

Spotting Kyle, Eric laughed maniacally, pointing a chubby finger at the unfortunate Jew, and proceeded to take off down the street, wheezing and coughing, but infuriatingly satisfied.

Watching the flames suddenly transfer from the tips of the branches to the corner of the roof, Kyle was too dumbfounded to yell after the fatass, or even panic. Instead he leaned against the telephone pole, let the soccer bag slide from his shoulder to the concrete and, calmly, pulled out his phone to call 911. He didn't bother to call his mother, who was at a PTA meeting with Ike. That nightmare could and would be dealt with later.

After informing the proper authorities, the red haired teen crossed his arms across his chest and chastised himself for not have seeing this coming. There had been so many obvious signs. For one, the fatass hadn't insulted Kyle for a good solid twelve hours, and two, it had been at least two and a half weeks since Cartman's last crime against humanity. He noted, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was so used to this abuse over the years that he had , in turn, successfully managed to eradicate any rational emotion that an average victim of his situation would be experiencing.

A woman's particularly loud exclamation of surprise pulled Kyle from his musings. The neighbors were starting to come out to watch the scene unfold.

"How typical" he thought with only mild disgust.

Eventually the fire team arrived to put out the chaos, but in the process, managed to break that last window when a clearly new member of the squad opted to point the hose in the top left direction of the house while distracted by the hose's stiff operating handle.

Kyle noted, incredulously, that the flood damage done to his room would probably end up being more costly than the actual minor damage created by the fire.

Needless to say, while coming home the next morning, he wasn't all that shocked to find a moving truck in his driveway . His mother had sent Ike and him to the Marsh's for solace, which proved fatefully stupid as Stan had decided that spending the night at Wendy's while she and him worked on their "English project," was far more superior in importance to Kyle's possible homelessness. Sheila and her husband spent the night arguing over the narrow minded anti-semetic residents that South Park was most assuredly filled with. Consequently, the two brothers were bestowed the pleasure of attending boarding school for the next nine months. This is the story of the death of Kyle Brovlovski.

Hah! I'm totally kidding.

…

It was now late October and Eric Cartman and Kenny McKormick lay lazily on the front steps of Cartman's house. Kenny was chewing absent-mindedly on the now-empty plastic wrapper of an otter pop-blue raspberry- while watching the shadows of houses slowing elongate on the golden sidewalk. Eric was perched on the step above the poor boy, hunched over a yellow pad of paper and furiously scribbling and crossing out plans for his new scheme. Every time the hooded boy leaned over to catch of glimpse of the paper, the fatboy would shield it with his hands and whine. Kenny suspected it was something along the lines of world domination this time.

While watching the black silhouettes of crows soar overhead, an unexpected gust of wind came screaming down through the Colorado mountains, over main street, right past the two boys, and kept on going south.

"_Maybe for forever" _thought Kenny the trees swayed and the branches and leaves whispered in the way they only can when the wind decides to stop by.

There was an oddly familiar scent in the air. Kenny couldn't quite place it. He could feel the memory right on the edge of his consciousness, just barely unlocked. He took in long gulps of breath and closed his mind. It was right there. On the tip of his tongue, almost in view of the mind's eye, teetering right on the edge.

"Dude. What. The fuck. Are you doing?"

Kenny exhaled, disappointed. It was gone.

"Kenny. Dude. Buddy. Are you ok?" asked Cartman suspiciously. He was tapping the pen on the pad, expecting an answer, but not genuinely caring either way.

The hooded teen sighed.

"Yea. Just …déjà vu, ya know?" He turned to look at the other boy.

"Hmmm" answered the fatass, clearly disinterested.

The sky was lavender and clusters of stars were just beginning to appear around the sharpest sliver of a moon. The crickets were warming up for their nightly symphony, neighbors waved goodnight, and kids were led, reluctantly, into their houses by insistent parents.

"Heard Jewboy was coming home."

Kenny turned his head in surprise. His face was twisted in guarded hope and disbelief, one eyebrow cocked up, but a slight half smile.

"What! Kyle?!" Kenny's head cocked to one side in a motion that signaled Eric to continue.

"Yup. Wendy told me. Met up with him in France. Dude he's been in boarding school up there. Fucking Lame." He was bouncing the pen between his teeth while staring thoughtfully at the note pad. Cartman and Wendy had recently become close in debate class this year. They made a formidable duo.

"Are you shitting me? No fucking way man!" Kenny knew that somewhere inside Cartman was dying to get the Jew back. The kid just didn't have that edge when there was no innocent Jew to taunt with victory.

Kenny glanced down the street towards the Broflovski's. Now only Sheila and Gerald lived there. Seriously. Kyle and Ike had just up and left in the middle of the night one night, without goodbyes, without warning, and without any indication that the two themselves had known they were leaving. Of course, Kyle's friends would request contact information, but Sheila, being the mother she was, refused to let her sons be tainted by the small mindedness of the town and therefore, the boys were usually answered with a door slammed in their face.

"_Kickass." _Thought the poor boy.

"Fucking Sweet."

Kenny looked over. Cartman was holding up his newly finished plan with satisfied accomplishment in his eyes. The blonde rolled his eyes and gazed southwards.

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TBC. Review pwease!


	2. Chapter 2

It had been an unusual week in South Park. Storm clouds had been perched at the edge of the horizon since last Thursday and the winds blowing in from the Colorado mountains had kept Stan Marsh turning in his sleep for nights. At this moment, the teen sat against the wall that was adjacent to his bed. Forgotten history homework lat helplessly on his pillow while the boy carried on with a particularly… interesting conversion with his classmate Heidi over his cell phone.

"Heidi. Just tell me. Come on," he teased gently.

"Stan! I'm not gonna tell you that! Don't you and Bebe have a thing going on right now anyways?" she questioned.

_Kinda. _"No! Not at all. What gave you that idea?" Stan asked. Its not like he was obligated to Bebe or anything. So they had "gotten friendly" after one too many drinks at homecoming. Everyone knew that the two never committed to anyone. Bebe was indecisive and Stan got bored with girls all too quickly.

"I heard about you two at Craig's after homecoming. Really Stan, who hasn't?"

Stan smiled widely. He could hear bitterness in Heidi's voice. That always meant jealously. It wasn't as if he was a bad person. In fact, he felt horrible when breaking some girl's heart. It was just that he was, you know, flirty by nature. Plus he always made it clear that anything that happened to occur was never serious.

"That was a mistake. You how I get when I'm wasted." he said, sincerely. Heidi, in truth, did like Stan.

_Everybody_ liked Stan. What could she say? The kid was persuasive. Stan Marsh? The name was mentioned and murmurs of approval would circle around the room. He was the homecoming prince. One of the star quarter backs. The golden boy.

Their discussion was cut short by his mother's knocking on the door which always signaled dinner. He hung up and pushed himself from the mattress. Stretching backwards he caught his reflection in the mirror. His handsome features were slightly marred by the bags under his eyes. _Fucking wind. _

He ate dinner quickly and without interest, even as his mother prodded him with the standard questions like "How was your day?" or "How are your classes?" or his personal favorite "Have you met any nice girls yet?" Cleary, Randy and Sharon were not aware of Stan's late night escapades nor of his playboy reputation at school.

He usually responded with monosyllabic answers- preferably noncommittal grunts, but the occasional yes or no when necessary.

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Stan was awakened later that night the howl of wind at his window. Sitting up to touch the glass, he could feel the cool, smooth surface vibrate under his fingertips. His hands left foggy prints that slowly shrunk and faded. Looking around the room, the sharp angles of shadows filled the corners and encroached on he edges of the floor, driven back by the moonlight.

He cracked open the latch on his window and leaned outside. Icy bursts of air pierced and stung his face like pine needles. Closing his eyes, he took in long, steady breaths of night wind and exhaled white lace. Abruptly, he open his eyes and retreated from the window as if startled by some inner sentiment.

He lay down, face up, and brought the sheets to his chin, mulling over some vague sense of approaching change. It terrified and thrilled him, causing tiny sparks of ice to crystallize in his bloodstream, right under his skin. His ceiling seemed to lower, then rock, sending Stan head first into uneasy dreams.

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It was Friday afternoon and Stan sat in Tweek's room with Craig and Kenny. Football season was over for Stan, who was now just beginning to settle back into his schedule of game-free Friday nights. It was incredibly dull, he noted.

Kenny was leaning, one arm out the window of the room, while smoking a cigarette and Craig was sitting patiently, trying to explain to Tweek the summary, character analysis, plotline, and crucial themes and motifs of some English novel that the two were assigned to write an essay about. The two had a unique and finely tuned system of study that they had developed over the years: Craig did all the reading, note taking, general outlining, and research while Tweek nodded his head and downed coffee. Unbelievably, Craig never seemed to mind.

Suddenly Tweek gasped. "Oh God. Craig! Jesus! I'm-"

"-out of coffee? Yea I figured. Come on. We've got new filters- I can make some more" Craig informed the blonde while he heaved himself from the carpet. The two proceeded down the stairs to the kitchen.

Kenny took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out of one side of his mouth, towards the window.

"What a goddamn good friend" he announced, nodding his head towards the stairs in reference.

"Hmmm" stated Stan in agreement.

Kenny tapped the end of the white stick, shaking the ashes, took one more quick puff, and grinded the stub unto the windowsill.

"How come you don't ever make me coffee Stan? Hmm?" he teased jokingly.

Stan ignored him. He was far to engulfed in a text message conversation with Red, at the moment. He wore one cocked eyebrow and that tiny little half smile upon his face, a look Kenny had seen many times whenever Stan looked at the opposing team's quarterback after running an hundred yard touchdown.

Kenny rolled his eyes. He wouldn't be getting in a word in edgewise against Red. He could only _imagine_ the _riveting _discussion the two were having.

There was a small commotion outside, a series of gasps and exclamations of joyful reunion that pulled Kenny's head to the window like and puppet being controlled by a wire. In the street was a moving truck and some kid- short, black hair- was hugging his red-headed mother who looked kinda like… Kenny froze.

"Dude. DUDE. Stan. I'm not even joking. Get over here man."

Stan got up. Right there, outside on the sidewalk, in the October sunset was Ike Broflovski being mauled, quite literally, by Sheila Broflovski.

Stan blinked. It was like watching a movie in which someone had unknowingly pressed the fast forward button while he had gone to grab some popcorn. The image in Stan's mind's screen did not match up to the scene outside. The kid was taller and like, at least five years older in appearance, which the brunette knew made no sense. Ike bounced into the truck to assist his father in removing the cardboard boxes of luggage.

Stan's heart stopped. There was Kyle. He was stepping out of the truck, holding a large box, which he set down on the asphalt to greet his mother.

The brunette swallowed hard as he watched Kyle's slender figure take on Sheila's onslaught of affection. The Jew smiled brilliantly as he conversed with his family. There was excitement glowing in his green eyes and attractive face as he listened intently to his mother's rushed stories, rubbing his arms every couple of minutes due to the wind chill. Really, the kid was not dressed to be back in South Park, Colorado, thought Stan incredulously as he eyed his friend's apparel. Kyle was wearing a thin long sleeve shirt coupled with what looked like expensive jeans and designer sunglasses.

Stan snorted in minor disgust.

He watched the Jew run his hand through his stylish red waves of hair. In fact, Stan stared, unabashed at the redhead until it clicked.

_Ah ha! He's not wearing his hat! Wait- WHAT?_

After several minutes of shocked observation, Stan turned to look at Kenny who was… not there?

"Kenny?" he cleared glanced around the room and cleared his dry throat. Why was it dry? "Dude. Kenny."

"BROFLOVSKI!" Stan heard from beyond the window. He peered down to see the hooded boy land impressive running tackle on the redhead, forcing him unto the ground.

Kyle's mother looked on in utter horror as she watched the two wrestle in the snow. It wasn't much of a match- Kyle was small and underdressed and weaken by the surprise tackle while Kenny, taking the upper hand, continued to pin Kyle to the snow in an arm lock hug. Kyle was simultaneously laughing pleasantly and chattering his teeth.

"Kyle! You getup this instant, young man, before you catch a cold!" came the voice of Sheila.

Kenny sighed and helped the redhead up, who, to Stan's dismay, gracefully resumed the poise he had held earlier. Jeez, Ky had only been back in South Park approximately twenty minutes and he was already frustrating Stan. This was something that had one-sidedly developed even before the Jew went away. Stan would just look at Kyle and, for some reason, become infuriated. Some small part of Stan hated-HATED- the redhead, for an unbeknownst reason that would keep Stan pondering in his bed at nights. Kyle, on the other hand, would have no clue as to Stan's peculiar behavior and attempt to talk to the brunette, escalating the situation in the process. This led to the complete avoidance of Kyle. After all, Stan, at the time, had a girlfriend and absolutely no reason to be attached to the hip to the Jew. Come to think of it, Stan couldn't remember the last time the two had spent together in the weeks leading up to the fire.

Stan clenched his teeth. Turning sharply from the window, he headed towards Tweek's kitchen. The smell of coffee and the sound of the two friends laughing permeated his senses.

Craig was kneeling on the ground next to Tweek, who sat with his back to Craig, curled around his coffee thermos protectively as Craig attempted to steal it through a torture method know as tickling. The two were laughing hysterically.

Stan raised an eyebrow, but resolved not to say anything. He reached out to grab his backpack from the kitchen chair as quietly as possible. Suddenly, Tweek let out a shriek and Stan pulled back sharply, knocking a mug of coffee to the tile. The two looked up and quickly untangled themselves.

"Hey man." Craig was the first to speak. "Kenny just ran outside a minute ago." He pointed towards the front door.

"Yea. I know." answered Stan angrily. He snatched up the bag and heaved it over his shoulder. Heading for the kitchen door, he muttered a quiet "Later," to the two boys, who looked at each other in confusion.

Stan proceeded out the door and through the side garden gate, a route that cut through the hills that separated Craig's side of the neighborhood from Stan's and completely avoided the front street all together.

Glancing quickly to make sure Kenny wouldn't spot him, Stan walked home.


	3. Chapter 3

Ello ello. Here is the third.

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Storm clouds hung low over South Park this week, and static tension crackled through out the chilly air. The looming weather cast an eerie grey overtone onto every available outside surface. It was afternoon, though no one could tell for sure, and a hooded blonde and heavy brunette were leisurely strolling towards the Marsh residence. Cartman was sipping a large hot chocolate from Harbuck's, Tweek's family business, with a yellow pad of paper tucked under one arm while Kenny was noisily chewing gum, to the obvious annoyance of the other.

Each gazing thoughtfully at the gloomy scenery, the two followed along the sidewalk illuminated by the light pouring from the windows of homes. Few words were spoken, but this was the manner in which the two carried about their relationship. They had run out of things to converse long ago, and enjoyed each other's silent companionship.

Kenny entertained himself by blowing large bubbles with his gum and popping them unnecessarily loud. Cartman shot the boy a tired death glare which warned Kenny of certain death if he didn't knock it off right fucking now. The heavier boy had spent the weekend at a debate competition with Wendy. The two qualified for the next round, an announcement upon which Wendy immediately dragged Cartman off to the library to study. This had become routine nearly every night now.

Kenny sighed and continued walking. Half a minute later there was a bubble about the size of baseball protruding from between his lips.

"Kenny. I'm so seriously right now. You better no-" the other boy grinned cheekily and bit down on the gum which broke with a loud pop.

"KENNY! Imma kill you!" Cartman was red in the face and shaking. He started at the hooded boy, who casually stepped out of the way.

"Dude calm down. We're here."

The heavy boy let out a large sigh of self containment. Kenny was impressed by the other's self control. Apparently all that time arguing with Wendy was healthy for the other boy.

The two helped themselves to the back garden gate, walking straight though the back yard and into Stan's porch door. It seemed no one was home. No, wait. There was music coming from upstairs-- Stan was here. Kenny retrieved a blue otter pop from the freezer and Cartman grabbed a few cookies from the jar. The heavy boy fell back onto the couch and took up the remote while the hooded one headed up the stairs.

There was light coming from under Stan's door.

"STAN! You better be dressed man. Coming in." Kenny waited three seconds and turned the knob.

Stan was sprawled out on his bed with a notepad over his stomach. He stared at his popcorn textured ceiling and bounced a pencil on his lips in time to the beat of the song. He turned to Kenny and sat up slowly.

The other turned down the volume of the radio and lounged into the computer chair.

"What." came Stan's voice.

"Is that anyway to greet me?" asked Kenny, distracted by a rubicks cube.

"…Sorry man. Haven't been getting sleep lately. The winds driving me crazy." the brunette stared out the window.

Kenny look up with a frown.

"Wind? What wind?"

Stan stared at the other incredulously. "You're kidding me right?"

In reality Kenny had no idea what the other boy was talking about. But he sounded peeved and Kenny didn't want to deal with that right now.

"Oh yea. That wind. Gotcha." he went back to the cube.

After a few idle minutes of useless turning, the blonde tossed the toy onto Stan's bed with disgust. The other was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"So anyways, me and fat boy are heading over to Kyle's. You coming?"

Stan's heart stopped, than jumpstarted in flooding rage and the nervousness of decision.

Kenny could see the panic on Stan's features and raised his eyebrows. What the fuck? Since when did super best friends hesitate to see each other? Although, now that he thought of it, the two did seem distant right before the Jew left. Eh. It was probably nothing serious. He waited for Stan's affirmation.

"I…uh…um I don't know man." Kenny had never heard Stan stutter before. What was this?

Stan was torn between his desperate want to kill the redhead, his desperate want to see him, and his desperate need to stay away from him. Fuck Kyle. This was his fault. God damnit he hated that kid.

Kenny, seeing the indecision on Stan's face, answered quickly, before the other could say protest.

Dragged from the bed, Stan was far too engulfed in the midst of a mind crisis to give conscious thought to fact that he was about to be hauled straight to hell by Kenny.

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Cartman and Kenny firmly held onto Stan who was giving his most noble attempts to break free and flee to opposite side of the neighbor. He had dreaded the moment he knew would come- when Kenny and/or Cartman came by to lug his ass down to the redheads. How had this happened? Stan had dished out every excuse this week not to see the Jewish boy when his other friends went to go greet Kyle. Had his week-long efforts been in vain?

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem man? It's just Kyle." Kenny questioned.

"Its alright Stan," stated Cartman. "I understand completely. Can't say I blame you for not wanting to see Jew boy. In fact I say we should-"

"Fuck OFF Eric!" bellowed the blond.

"Guys I had things to do! I have to clean my room and, and this one other thing and an English project with whats-her-name…" the brunette trailed off. The other two rolled their eyes.

Arriving at Kyle's door, Eric pressed down on the doorbell angrily. Stan knew he was about to die. Time seemed to slow down in Stan's dread. His palms were starting to sweat and he tapped his right foot in agitation. He heard the door knob twist and just about chocked on air.

Stan almost cried in relief as the door swung open to reveal Ike.

"Hey guys." The kid stated casually.

_Holy fuck. Even the kid's voice is different. They grow up so fast, _thought Stan with amazement.

In the backround, there were piles of moving boxes stacked next to one side of the stairs.

"Oh are you still all moving in? If you guys don't want people in the house right now, we can always come back later…" Stan started, hopefully.

"Nonsense Stan," came Kenny's voice. "Of course Kyle wants to see us."

Ike turned to let the three in.

"Fuck kid. You've grown," declared Kenny to Ike. The twelve year old smiled triumphantly at the comment.

He lifted his head to yell upstairs. "KYLE!"

A moment later the redhead appeared at the balcony. He was dressed in traditional European garb- a thin black v-neck tee with dark, distressed jeans, various woven or silver bracelets, expertly styled hair and a perfect completion. And looking like he was freezing his ass off. He smiled radiantly at Kenny and Cartman.

As Kyle descended the stairs agilely, Stan could feel the familiar sensations pound into him full force. The unmistakable mixture of animosity and something else, something far more powerful churned in Stan's stomach as he took in Kyle's features- the feminine jaw line, the pouty lips, the arch of his eyebrows.

Stan stepped back one when he hear Kyle's sultry, French tinged voice greet them.

The redhead led the three to the living room, where he fell, gracefully, onto the couch. Kenny and Cartman happily followed his lead- Kenny next to Kyle and Cartman into a chair opposite their host. Stan leaned back onto Eric's chair.

Kenny and Cartman wildly embraced Kyle with questions, with which Kyle answered in exactly the manner the three remembered him with: shyly, friendly, and slightly sarcastic. The two laughed hysterically at some ridiculous Italian adventure that Kyle had experienced- Stan didn't hear. He was currently engrossed in the way Kyle's accent seemed to caress his ear. It was velvety and throaty and threw off Stan's ability to register what the redhead was saying. It was infuriating.

Eventually the laughter died down and the other three turned to Stan, who swallowed his anger and put on his best smile.

"Hey man. Glad you're back." he said quietly.

Kyle turned to the brunette. He cocked his head slightly, exposing his swan-like neck- Stan eyes were immediately glued. The redhead smiled sweetly.

"Oh. So you had noticed I was gone," his words were poisoned with malice.

_Oh no, _thought Kenny.

_Oh Fuck, _though Stan.

_Fuck yes!_ Thought Cartman with glee. The familiarity of chaos flooded his senses and the heavy boy sat back further into the chair to enjoy the entertainment.

The tension was suddenly unbearable.

Stan knew he wouldn't win against Kyle's searing gaze. He averted his eyes and swallowed dryly.

"Yea" he answered lamely.

Kenny cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"So man how've you been? Heard you were in some boarding school. That's weak."

The redhead chuckled shyly and got up to walk to the kitchen. Kenny followed and the two struck up a friendly conversation, as though the tension had not just been as thick as cement. Cartman groaned in dissapointment.

Stan could feel the familiar tendrils of rage encroach the edges of his mind as he watched Kyle smile and converse with the other. A strange sense of longing tugged at his heart strings. He could have that with Kyle if the two had still been close. But that would place Stan back where he started, not that he knew exactly where that was, only that it wouldn't end this vicious circle that Stan became trapped within whenever he was around the redhead.

Cartman, with amusement, swung his head to look at Stan. He shook his head slowly and tsked in mock disapproval.

"Well well well Staney. You really fucked things up this time huh? Well, seems it doesn't matter now- your little Jewish girlfriend is running after poor boy. Really though, this is probably a good thing for you in the long run, I mean sooner or later that no-good Jew rat would have-"

Stan quickly zoned the rest of Cartman's speech out. He knew exactly where Cartman was going, and probably could have mouthed the fat boy word for word on this allocution, had he the energy.

He checked his phone. There was a text from Bebe asking for a study buddy for the math quiz tomorrow. Stan relaxed in happiness. Studying was a good excuse as any. Flipping his phone shut, he whispered quietly to Cartman.

"Gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

Cartman stared at the other brunette.

"Are you bailing again? You know Kenny told me how you just up an left at Tweek's house. You what I think? I think that-"

"Yea yea whatever Cartman," rushed Stan. He didn't want to hear what the fat boy was going to say.

"Goddamit! Why does everyone just cut me off?!" he heard the fat boy mutter to himself.

Stan all but ran for the door, bumping into Ike as he left. The Canadian looked on confused as the brunette rushed out the door. He would have to ask Kyle later.

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More sexual tension to grow in the next chapters hehe. Review if you have suggestions, flames (bring em on), comments, etc. I like advice.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello there! Sorry for the wait. I've been treking through Europe. Actually wrote this on the Eurostar to Paris.

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Fog draped over the town like an enormous grey veil. The clouds had repeatedly blossomed and dissipated this week, creating a presentiment of silent turmoil and romantic chaos that hung in the air like electric static. It was about that time of year when fall slowly rotates on its axis and, reluctantly and creaking, drops into winter. For the "quiet" village of South Park, it was just enough to drive it's residents mad with anticipation.

It was now well into November. Halloween had passed without any significant destruction, only the usual antics. Cartman's scheme to poison the chocolate candies and the hold the antidote for ransom in the town hall had failed massively due to some stupendous infirmity on Eric's part. Kyle Broflovski had no idea what had occurred, and frankly, didn't care. It wasn't as if the townspeople were going to do anything anyways. The notion of punishing Eric Cartman for his crimes was decidedly inconceivable to them.

As of the moment, fine mist swept through the streets, dusting blades of grass with beads of dew. Kyle though it was lovely as he observed a spider web sag and crystallize in the fog. He was sitting on his windowsill, bare feet dangling, ankles grazing the icy concrete of the house's exterior walls. A strong gust of air sped past and the redhead pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around his shoulders, shivering uncontrollably for several seconds. He frowned. Beautiful as it was, he definitely missed the French countryside- the sun's warm smile, the gentle creeks, the fields of spices that ran as far as the eye could see. And, of course, the shopping. Kyle dearly missed the shopping.

Another gust of wind arose and the teen groaned in frustration. Even his expensive long-sleeved silk-wool blend tunics couldn't keep him warm in this godforsaken town. And South Park smelled _nothing _like lavender.

With a heavy sigh, the redhead pushed himself back through the window and into the room. There were cardboard packing boxes, tissue paper, and Styrofoam peanuts scattered in layers up to four inches thick across the carpet. Not to mention the large sheets of bubble wrap messily folded atop the cabinet. He had promised those to Ike for later.

Pushing his sleeved up, the redhead began to methodically sift through the wreckage. After several hours, his carpet was once again visible and the sound of the water taps could be heard.

Kyle swiftly undressed. The steam from the shower was sweltering but the tile was bitterly cold. The contrast made his skin crawl with goosebumps. Stepping into the shower, the teen let the stream of pounding water wash away the tension in his body. His shoulders dropped and his thoughts turned to Stan Marsh. The brunette had been the topic of his musings for some time now. Even the name made his chest ache. What had happened to their super best friendship? Had it really been reduced to this? Kyle suspected he could probably count on one hand the number of times he had actually seen the brunette. Two hands to count the number of words exchanged between the two. No matter how much he contemplated on it and tossed and turned in the late hours of night, he couldn't understand it. Not one of the infinite scenarios he had conjured in his mind would tell Kyle what he had done to fuck up their relationship. The guilt and the pain were so heavy at times that the redhead feared it would break him. It was so obvious that Stan hated Kyle. He hadn't even come down to greet him the day he had returned to South Park. It wasn't as if he couldn't see the brunette through Tweek's open window.

The teen dropped to the floor of the shower and curled his knees into his chest. The teen bit his lip in a valiant effort to hold back tears of discontent. He was so angry. He was so hurt. Even after all this time the brunette hadn't forgiven him. It was incomprehensible. Before the fire, he had timidly reached out countless times to console Stan and to apologize only to be batted away. Kyle had no idea what he had done but would have submitted to anything in order to atone for it. And now he was here. Sobbing pathetically in the shower over someone who had clearly forgotten about him a long time past. Why was it that Kyle was here while Stan didn't seem to be fazed at all? For that he hated the brunette. It wasn't fair.

The hot water was slowly dwindling now and Kyle reached out to shut to taps off. He watched as the currant flowed leisurely into the drain. His face was stinging from tears. He felt like such a girl. Standing up, he wrapped a white towel around his slender torso. In the mirror his eyes were red and watery and his face was a most attractive shade of tomato red. Geez, he hadn't cried like that since… well since he had last been in this town. Before the fire. Of course it had been over Stan those times as well. He sighed in despair. Kyle just didn't have anyone else like Stan. He wasn't capable of getting that close to another person like Stan was. He could feel the cycles of self pity start up again and quickly put a firm stop to the nonsense. This was probably good for him anyways, discarding their relationship. It wasn't good to be attached to anyone like he was to Stan. It was a matter will, that's all. A test to himself and a measure of self worth. He would get over Stan right fucking now.

It was a lie of course. He knew that immediately. He couldn't stay mad at the brunette ever. Even after Stan had abandoned the redhead, Kyle still couldn't let him go. But what could he do? The other hated him now.

Suddenly he felt suffocated in the stuffy bathroom. He felt as though the water vapor in the air was drowning him in some feverish wet hell. He choked on absolutely nothing at all except claustrophobia. He left the room and padded over to his window, inspecting the web.

In the distance, where the clouds broke and parted, he could see the final citrus rays of the sun as it descended behind the mountains.

"Beautiful…"

-------------

A while later, Kyle was downstairs at the stove, heating the kettle for tea. In the discouraging absence of nothing to do on a Friday afternoon, he let his thoughts wander off to various destinations. He briefly contemplated inviting Kenny over, but decided against it. He felt emotionally and mentally exhausted. Besides, if Kenny wanted to come over at all, he would just waltz right through the front door, uninvited.

The kettle was screaming now and Kyle carefully transferred the hot water into a porcelain teacup. He selected a jar of honey from the pantry, picked up his cup and silver teaspoon, and headed for the couch. He could hear the muffled voices of melodramatic dialogue emitting from the television. Funny. He didn't remember turning it on…

At the sight of Kenny sprawled out on the couch, Kyle nearly dropped his mug.

"Hey man." Kenny announced casually, acknowledging the redhead's presence. He never turned his head from the screen.

"What the… Dude. What are you doing here?!" Kyle demanded to know. Not that he should have been surprised.

"Hmmm…? Oh. Yea the front door was open. I let myself in," Kenny stated, disinterested and picking at something between his front teeth with his fingernail. "Do you have any of those otter pops?"

"What? Why would you want- no never mind." the redhead shook his head in annoyance and took a seat next to the blond. For several minutes the two watched the corny daytime drama in silence, interrupted at random intervals by Kyle's sipping. Kyle had never seen the show before, but the exaggerated acting and tasteless plotline was just enough to keep his interest at a low simmer. In the redhead's almost boredom, he picked up the jar of honey and began dipping his finger in. Kenny didn't seem to care as Kyle proceeded to lick the sweetness from his fingers.

Just as Jason was about to hook up with his ex-wife's sister, Kyle muted the television.

"Dude!" objected the blond.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I have to have a reason to see my friend?" asked Kenny dubiously. He sighed. "I was walking around, saw your house and popped in" he explained blandly. He knew the redhead would just keep commanding an answer otherwise.

The two friends headed up to Kyle's room.

For a while they conversed discursively about various things- Mrs. Smith, their bitch math teacher, Clyde and Powder's hook up last weekend, the strange weather, Cartman's friendship with Wendy.

"It's so weird! I would have never seen that one coming," stating Kyle, amused.

"I don't know man. They are kind of compatible in their own weird way. Remember their debate team in fourth grade?" asked the other.

"Yea… Anyways, what does Stan think of their friendship? I mean he was obsessed with her for like ever…" the redhead trailed off sadly and Kenny noticed.

"Yea well. He's kinda dating Bebe now… or something. That kid has a new one every couple weeks. He's so…" Kenny shook his head and chuckled, but neither found it all that funny.

"Stan just doesn't quite know what he's looking for," announced the blond. "He's pretty wild and he likes to have fun and he's got a lot of girls…but, you know, he just can't keep his interest in them. He just goes back and forth."

Kyle raised his eyebrow. "He's gonna have a lot of people hating him one day."

Kenny eyed Kyle and grinned. "Naw. He'll find it soon."

Kyle opened his mouth but Kenny interrupted the redhead before he could talk. "Just got a feeling man. In my gut." He laughed at Kyle's perplexity.

The redhead sighed miserably. "He hates me. I know he does. I can't figure out what I did."

Kenny looked extremely startled. "Dude, what are you talking about? He doesn't hate you, he just… I mean its complicated with him… or so I think," he added quickly.

"Has he said anything to you?"

"Uh, no. Not at all. I have no idea whats up." It wasn't exactly a lie. Stan really _didn't_ tell Kenny anything.

The blond got up from the bed and walked to the window. "I never noticed. You got a nice view from here man."

Kyle nodded absent mindedly.

"Holy Christ!" shouted Kenny. "Speak of the devil." He slide the glass up.

"STANNY! STAN MARSH! Hey man!" Kenny screamed from the window. Stan gazed upwards and was about to greet the boy until he realized exactly whose window the blond was shouting from. A look of utter dread consumed his features. Back in the room, Kyle was panicking on the bed.

"KENNY!" the redhead whispered. "Don't you dare… Please Kenny!"

The blond completely ignored Kyle's pleas. "Stay right hear," he commanded, as he ran from the room.

The redhead whimpered, fell backwards onto his bed, and slammed a pillow over his eyes.

-----------------------

Outside in the ice, Stan Marsh was frantically scouring the terrain for an escape route. _Fucking Christ Kenny he thought furiously. _

Stan knew exactly what this was. This was Kenny's ploy to get Stan and Kyle in the same room so that the blond could examine their every encounter and formulate a psychological analysis of the situation. From there, Kenny would probably fuck with both their heads for several weeks for his own entertainment, then drop the two like rocks to work things out themselves.

Personally, Stan couldn't imagine a worse hell. But he couldn't bail again. He didn't want others questioning his manhood. Cartman had already sent around some rumor that Stan was afraid to see Kyle. How ridiculous! Stan wasn't scared. Ever. The redhead just made him really really upset and what man didn't flee from his emotions? Geez.

So Stan stood his ground. Seconds later, Kenny raced up to him with maniac excitement in his eyes. The brunette rolled eyes and the two headed into Kyle's house without a word. They settled in on the couches and immediately started chatting.

Kyle, meanwhile, was preoccupying himself in the kitchen, fixing another cup of tea and desperately wishing he was anywhere in the universe but there. After stalling as much as appropriately possible, the redhead slowly treaded into the living room. Stan abruptly stopped talking, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Kyle fell into a chair and began to sip his tea, looking pointedly in any direction but Stan's.

Kenny looked back and forth between the two with decisive curiosity. After a few seconds, he leaned back into the couch.

"Very interesting," he mused to no one in particular.

The brunette and redhead cringed simultaneously. That meant inescapable intervention on Kenny's part now.

"Anyway," started the blond, "did you hear about those kids up in Middle Park?"

"…Yea. I heard they were quarantining the area or something," Stan drawled.

"Yea. They can't figure out why they're sick," mused Kenny. "Hopefully it doesn't get down here. You know, I think-"

Both Stan and Kyle zoned the blond out and turned to take a peek at the other. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second, and Kyle was suddenly nervous. He looked away and let out a silent, shaky breath.

Stan grinned slightly in some small sense of triumph.

---------------------

Half an hour later, the blond was still prattling on, with the other two chiming in at random moments. Sometime during this, Kyle had picked up the honey jar and had resumed his finger-dipping.

Stan was entranced. He watched the redhead run his tongue along his finger, then slide the entire digit into his mouth. Stan was so…disgusted. It was just so disgusting, he thought. He watched in sick fascination as the redhead closed his eyes momentarily as he sucked on his finger, then opened them slowly as he pulled it out. Stan's heart was racing in utter repulsion. How was Kenny not noticing this? Kyle dipped his finger in again and watched the sticky substance gradually trickle down his index digit. He then tilted his head and brought the hand to his lips, dragging his tongue from the base of his finger to the tip. He slid the tip of his finger into his mouth again and closed his eyes, before pulling it out and repeating.

This was the tortuous ritual that had captivated all of Stan's attention for the past fifteen minutes. It was so disgusting! Stan couldn't honestly think of anything more sickening than this. Kyle looked to be in bliss right now and it made the brunette's insides twist with electricity. Why was it so hot in this room?

Kenny's voice droned on in the subconscious of Stan's mind. Eventually, Kyle set the glass jar down and Stan felt like he had just woken from a dream.

"Let's go," Kenny's voice commanded.

Stan looked up, dazed.

"…Wha?"

Both Kyle and Kenny turned to look at Stan.

"Dude. Have you been listening at all?" asked the blond. "Were gonna go see that new Keanu Reeves movie. I already invited Cartman."

Stan sat up and reached into his pocket for his cell.

"Don't even think about inviting Bebe. You will not be going off into the bathrooms to fuck her. This is quality time for the four of us…or something equally as gay." Geez. Kenny could read Stan like a book.

Kyle sprawled a note on the fridge for his parents and Ike, informing them where he was going.

As the three set out, Stan passed by the honey jar still resting on the coffee table. He shuddered.

"Disgusting…"

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TBC. By the way, the voices of the SP boys is French is so different and not nearly as incredible. But you should still look it up and see.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello again! Here is the fifth.

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November's curtains were drawing closer and the weather in South Park was changing accordingly. Approaching storm clouds had halted and taken up a temporary residence on the northern rims of the sky. It was only a matter of time until they drifted southwards to usher in the seasonal blizzards that marked the conception of the new winter.

It was a half day at Park County High, and Kyle Broflovski was stowing his text books in his locker. Like any other half day, the plan was to go to lunch with Kenny, Stan, Token, and a few others. Momentarily, Stan and he were on what was considered "good" terms for them. They didn't talk per se, but the cold and custom "hello's" were returned, the fights were restricted to a minimal amount, and nothing much beyond that. Not that the tension wasn't continuously bottled up, but the two would cross that bridge when it arrived, which Kyle silently hoped was never. They didn't converse, or anything of the sort, so consequently, the only way the two knew what was happening with the other was through Kenny, who was quickly losing his forbearance.

Their were rumors, no doubt, about what had happened between the super best friends. They were usually supplied by Cartman, and spread throughout the student population faster than wild fire. But the truth was that no one, with the possible exception of Kenny, understood what had occurred, least of all Stan and Kyle.

Also momentarily, was the relationship between Stan and Bebe. It had lasted long enough to be considered a serious relationship by high school standards- two weeks, so far, and counting. It was a shock, but nevertheless, it was the longest either had ever been in a "committed" relationship, a well known fact in the populace. Bebe's friends found it incredibly romantic that the quarterback had finally settled down, while Stan's friends didn't necessarily care, only raised an eyebrow behind his back. Bebe's friends insisted it was love. Stan's friends insisted it was sex.

Kyle was only vaguely aware of Stan and Bebe's reputation at school, but from what he could see, it was the typical high school relationship between the quarterback and the pretty girl. He didn't know about Stan, but he knew that Bebe was faithful. Of course he only knew this because he, she, and Wendy had been placed in a chemistry lab group for the year. The three had become quick friends thanks to Kyle's thorough knowledge of European fashion and willingness to give sound advice on "boy problems." The three were frequent shopping buddies, a bond Kyle believed to transcend time itself.

Bebe was a sweet girl, and Kyle felt enormously guilty about hoping that Stan didn't feel the same for Bebe that she felt for Stan. The redhead continuously told himself that it was some misplaced sense of longing to once again be close to the brunette.

At the moment, Kenny leisurely strode over to the redhead, who was shutting the combination lock on his locker. The blonde grinned, all teeth.

"You lost," he informed Kyle.

"What?" asked the other.

"Dude. You were totally wrong. And I totally won. Which means you have to pay for my lunch. Lets get a move on huh?"

Kyle sighed. There had never been a competition or anything, this was just Kenny's way of getting others to pay for his food. They were all used to it by now, as the blond rotated victims every half day.

The two exited through the gym and hopped into Clyde's car, which reeked of Taco Bell and sports laundry. Token was in the passenger seat, and Stan, Kyle and Kenny were in the back, Kenny in the middle.

Clyde turned around and informed the three, through his grape tootsie pop, that Craig and Tweek would meet them at Raisins. He then proceed to pull out a pair of what Kyle considered to be the most hideous looking sunglasses ever manufactured, and started up the engine.

"Dude. Nice sunglasses. I mean it." Kenny stated. Clyde grinned back at him through the driver's mirror.

Stan and Token struck up a conversation about the girl's varsity track squad, while Clyde tried to convince Kenny that Angelina Jolie was like, ten thousand times hotter than the chick from American Pie.

Kyle leaned his head against the window and watched the buildings go by. Even as small as South Park was, Raisins was on the outskirts and about a ten minute drive. He eyes slipped shut, and he contemplated several meaningless things for several minutes. He could feel either Kenny's or Stan's gaze on him, but didn't acknowledge it. He carefully avoided letting his thoughts come around to Stan. Recently, Kyle found that he would be repeatedly swept into short daydreams of the brunette that would leave the redhead breathless and dizzy with want.

The rocking of the car nearly lulled Kyle asleep. He was jolted awake when the car pulled into the lot and came to a still. He was immediately startled when Craig came running up to the car and pounded on the windows with his palms. Clyde and Token gave a loud cry of alarm that had the boy outside hunched over with laughter.

The five emerged from the vehicle.

"You motherfucker!" shouted Token, angrily.

Craig only laughed harder, and Kenny chimed in. Tweek stood by on the sidewalk nervously giggling.

Eventually, the group got around to sitting down, after much arguing on where they wanted a table. Stan had finally decided on a table by the window. He seemed to be in a bad mood. No one had argued with him. A scantily clad girl took their orders and winked at Kyle, who was once again pondering with a fixed stare out the window and didn't notice. The others, however, did and laughed and whistled in admiration, which pulled the redhead from his musings. Kyle didn't seem to care, they noticed, which they took to be a sign of being jaded of girls hitting on him.

From that point on, Clyde, Craig, and Kenny continued to pester the redhead with inquiries of hook ups with "French babes." Kyle just laughed and sipped his water. Stan's face had taken on a look of mild surprise.

At one point, Kenny had slipped away, after a brief announcement concerning his full bladder. Kyle found this odd, as the redhead later found the blond toying with the knobs of a broom closet, which was on the opposite side of the building from the restrooms.

After finishing their meals and paying, Tweek and Craig left to get a head start on some English project. Undoubtedly that meant they had left it until the last minute.

The others stayed at the table, conversations starting up in random bursts. They were all texting or, in Kenny's case, flirting with a waitress.

A short while after that, Token and Clyde got up to have a smoke outside.

Kenny watched the two walk away until the front doors closed behind them. He then whipped his head around to Stan and Kyle. The grin on the blond's face was enough to sound alarms in both of the other's heads.

He huddled in, and began to whisper, causing the redhead and the brunette to lean across the table to hear him.

"Dude. It's fucking crazy! I can't even explain it! So I went into the closet thing over there, right?" the blond motioned towards the dark hall way on the right of the restaurant. His eyes were wild with bedlam. "You will never guess what's in there. It's just…it's fucking diabolical. Come on, Imma show you."

Kyle and Stan hesitated briefly, but were hastily ushered out of their seats by Kenny.

As soon as they were sure none of the waitresses were looking over, they crept into the hallway. Kyle suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Approaching the door, the blond stopped and put a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't show you guys. I'm not so sure you're gonna like this." Kyle's trepidation went from bad to worse.

"Dude. Whatever. Just show us. Don't be lame." Stan replied curtly. The anxiety was killing him.

Kenny smiled sweetly at them. "Kay."

He took the door handle slowly, touching it several times first as if he was afraid it would come alive. Then, in a rare dramatic flourish, he swung the door open and flung himself away.

Stan and Kyle peeked inside ever so slowly…

There was nothing except blackness.

Stan pulled away and huffed. "There's nothing here Ken." He said, aggravation evident in his voice.

Kenny looked deeply offended. "That's because the lights are off, dumbass!"

The brunette stepped into the room to find the light switch while Kyle leaned against the door frame. A frown appeared on the redhead's androgynous features as some ominous sense of déjà vu pervaded his senses. He looked over at Kenny, who was waiting by the open door patiently. _Wait a minute_…

Stan stepped half way out of the closet. "The switch doesn't work…" he informed.

Kenny cleared his voice slowly before turning to Stan and Kyle and asking, "So, you know how you two never talk?"

Kyle's bad feeling plummeted into a free fall. The redhead made a quick move to get away from the entrance, only to find himself spun around and forcibly pushed into Stan's torso. The brunette, in turn, was driven back against the back wall of the room and the door slammed shut. Followed by a tell-tale click.

Kyle quickly rolled off of Stan. Both raced to reached the door. Wouldn't. Budge.

"Locked from the outside" came Kenny's voice from beyond the door. It had a singing quality to it.

"Kenny…"Stan's voice was absolutely venomous and Kyle stepped back one in the dark.

"Yea, this is pretty diabolical, isn't it?" the blond didn't wait for any agreement. "Anyways, you two are gonna learn to play nice. I'm sick of this avoidance shit. You know who has to put up with the brunt of it? Me. It's over. Done. Finito." Though Kenny didn't sound overly annoyed right now. Actually, he sounded like he was enjoying this immensely.

"Kenny! Let me out. Right. Now." Kyle demanded furiously.

"Quit your bitching," was his reply. "They open this closet up around clean up to grab the broom. That gives you both about…" there was a pause here and Kyle could only assume the blond was checking the time on his cell. "…Six? Yea, six hours to settle your differences. Don't worry. There's water in there. I already checked." They heard fading chuckles that indicated that the blond was walking away.

They both slid down opposite sides of the walls. They knew it would be pointless to call after the blond. Kenny wasn't going to let them out.

They exhaled simultaneously. Then reached into their pockets to pull out their cell phones which…weren't there? Kyle immediately started to panic silently. Kenny had gone as far as pick pocketing them?! No! He could not do this. This was absolutely not ok. Kyle would not be able to withstand eight hours alone in a dark room with Stan. Talking with the brunette was horrible. But the silence was infinite times worse. And the room seemed to be getting smaller by the second. He started to feel the familiar hands of suffocation envelope his form. His heart raced in dread. Kyle shut his eyes and inhaled what he hoped were silent, deep breaths. This only increased his panic. The more he inhaled, the less he felt he could breathe.

"Relax."

The redhead abruptly stilled. Stan's voice was deep and sturdy, like a rock. It soothed Kyle. He leaned his head against the wall. "Keep talking." the redhead pleaded, just barely whispering.

"Breathe."

Kyle did as he was told. His heart slowed and his mind collected itself. He felt as if he had been hit with a tranquilizer. He opened his eyes slowly. His eyes had adjusted and he could almost make out Stan's form and eyes because of the faint light streaming from under the door. Other than that, Kyle could barely see his own hand in front of his face.

The two sat in deafening silence for a while before Kyle worked up the courage to say something.

"Um," he started, timidly breaking the quiet. "So…how have you been?" It was shy and only one notch above a whisper in volume.

There was a break and the redhead feared that the other had decided to ignore him all together.

"Fine." It was calm and gentle, not at all what the redhead was used to when being directed at by Stan. "You?"

That caught the redhead off guard. "…Same."

There was a short pause, and then a calm "good." Stan sat back against the wall and Kyle assumed that he had closed his eyes, because the redhead could no longer see their faint blue reflection from the light.

The silence lasted for ages. Kyle fidgeted and grasped for something to say, but eventually gave up. He sat back, shed his jacket and tried to sleep. He was rocked into some half asleep state of dreamland filled with bizarre images of Stan and Kenny and his French classmates. He dreamed of the open countryside and the cool breeze, which transformed into the feverish hell of South Park. His uneasiness increased as his dreams became hotter in temperature. He was finally lulled awake by the sound of Stan rummaging in the back of the closet.

He swallowed dryly and opened his eyes. It. Was. Sweltering. He could feel beads of perspiration around his neck and forehead. The closet was extremely small and the body heat between Stan and Kyle was too much. He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and changed his sitting position. He groaned. His entire body felt sticky with sweat.

He recognized the sound of a plastic water bottle being opened, followed the sounds of water sloshing and swallowing. His body instantly craved it and he started to move away from the wall.

"Umm…can I have some?" Kyle's voice was slightly raspy. "Please?" He added as a quiet after-thought.

Stan stilled, then tentatively began to move towards Kyle's voice. When he reached the redhead, he gently ran his fingertips up Kyle's neck, seeking out his lips. Upon discovering them, he pressed the mouth of the bottle to them. Kyle instinctively placed his hands on Stan's shoulders for balance, learning in the process that the brunette had already shed his coat and shirt in the heat.

Stan placed his other hand on the back of Kyle's neck and slowly tipped the redhead, and the bottle.

Kyle drank ravenously, his fingers tightening and twitching on Stan's shoulders. As he finished, he turned his head from the bottle, coughing and gasping for air as water sloshed out. Droplets trickled down Kyle's neck and Stan set the bottle down, placing his free hand on the small of the redhead's back . He held the other in a strong hold. Kyle slowly regained his breath. Then began to silently lose it again as his heart sped up.

Stan moved Kyle back against the wall, still holding him. For a few short moments, neither moved at all, until Stan slowly slid his hands out from under Kyle, and the other let his hands fall from Stan's shoulders.

The brunette retreated back to the opposite wall. Kyle wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved.

_What the hell was that?_ Crossed both their minds.

For the remainder of the time, both kept to their own wall. Kyle, for one, was in a complete daze. The poor Raisins girl who later came to retrieve the mop was immediately alarmed by the two half-dressed boys in the closet. She didn't say a word as the two dressed quietly and headed for the door.

Kyle didn't remember much after that, except it was cold and dark, and his pillow was soft when he hit his bed.

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Yes. Rather frustrating is it not? To be continued. Review please!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! I'm writing this in the airport right now as my flight has been delayed like thirteen times thanks to stormy weather. I would like feedback on this one if you can.

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One day later, dark billowing clouds were just beginning to encroach the skies over South Park. The winds had shifted now; they came down from the north with the clouds on their backs. For the townspeople, it was a reminder of the oncoming seasonal transition. Wood was chopped, windows were boarded up, and the resident ice cream parlor was shut down for the winter.

It was early, around six fifteen, and Kyle Broflovski had just awoken in his bed. He lay, curled in his sheets and gazing softly out the window, as last night's events came back to him. He shut his eyes tightly, and fisted his hands in the blankets, as if the actions would bring him some sort of understanding of the situation. He was so utterly confused right now.

The redhead slowly opened his eyes and scanned the room. It was dark; the sun had not yet risen. He hoisted his body out of the bed and trudged to the bathroom. He poured himself a glass of water, drinking it slowly and pensively. Mid-swallow, the redhead looked up to the mirror, only to be consumed by vivid memories of water bottles, Stan, and skin. He set the glass down, angrily, and ran his hand through his hair.

Kyle leaned against the glass door of the shower, and slowly slid to the tile. This was not good. He couldn't shake the feeling of Stan's large hands around him. Or Stan's muscled torso, slicked with sweat. Head falling to his knees, Kyle forced himself to concentrate on a small crack in the white stone tile.

What threw him the most, was the fact that this was Stan. As in Stan Marsh. His former best friend, who Kyle knew for a fact, did _not_ swing that way. So why had it been so unnecessarily intimate? _Come on_, the brunet had practically held Kyle while he drank. Why not just hand the water bottle over? Ugh. This was so Kenny's fault. Even though the blond had only been trying to progress Stan and Kyle's relationship one step forward, the redhead felt as if it had just retrograded two steps back. Seriously. Now it was going to be twice as awkward talking to Stan as it was before.

_If he even talks to me at all,_ Kyle thought fearfully.

The teen quickly showered and dressed, before leaning into Ike's room to wake him up. His brother was up in a flash.

"Where the FUCK were you last night?!" he screamed in a whisper.

"Kenny locked Stan and I in a closet. The son of a bitch," he replied truthfully. In a town like South Park, the most outrageous answer tended to be the most believable.

Ike visibly relaxed, before his features took on a more amused air.

"So," the twelve year old started, and Kyle groaned, knowing immediately that the kid was about to say something perverted. "How was it? I bet you two had like, mad crazy make up sex. Am I right? Huh?"

Kyle glanced towards the ceiling and silently wondered if his brother and Kenny had started hanging out.

"Get dressed." He told Ike firmly as he left the room.

"What? No! I want details!" The younger demanded, and shortly after dissolved into laughter.

The redhead busied himself preparing breakfast and thanking the heavens that his teachers hadn't given him homework last night.

Half an hour later, at seven ten, Ike stumbled down the stairs with wet hair and crinkled clothes. His older brother served him a plate of breakfast, while quizzing him on vocabulary words. Ike defined each term through a mouthful of buttered toast.

"Swallow before you talk. You'll choke otherwise" the redhead advised while sipping his tea and skimming the newspaper. More sick in Middle Park, it seemed.

Twenty minutes later, the two brothers locked up the house and headed out the door. They parted in opposite directions: Ike to Filmore's so that he, Filmore and Jenny could walk to South Park Elementary, and Kyle to the bus station to wait for his three companions. They didn't actually take the bus anymore, but it was an unbroken tradition to meet there.

As Kyle approached the bus sign he found the other three already there, and felt slightly guilty for being late.

Kenny greeted him with a grin and a hug, as if he hadn't put Kyle though hell last night. He handed the redhead his Blackberry without a word. Kyle snorted.

Cartman grunted, acknowledging Kyle, who hmmm'd in response. This was how the two greeted each other.

Now, had this been a year ago, Stan would have greeted Kyle last, with a long, affectionate hug, that bordered on questionable, and a full, detailed account of last night's football practice. But this was the present. And it it's place was silence and the shrill howl of the Colorado winds.

The four headed off to Park County High, a thirty minute journey. Cartman, unusually chatty for this ungodly hour, had spent a good portion of the last half an hour driveling on about the state debate competition in two weeks. Stan and Kyle paid him no attention. Kenny nodded his head and hmmm'd every once in a while to keep up the appearance of listening. The blond was much more distracted by the interesting absence of bickering between Stan and Kyle.

Kenny carefully observed the two. They hadn't greeted each other this morning. They hadn't mentioned the closet. They weren't fighting. In fact, they wouldn't even look at each other. He had anticipated something like an all out brawl in the closet in which the two would really work out their frustrations. Perhaps something more interesting had occurred? The thought was absolutely delightful to the blond.

They arrived at the school shortly thereafter. In the hallway, the four parted ways: Cartman to math, Kyle to chemistry, and Kenny and Stan to history.

Stan walked briskly down the rows of lockers, trying to outrun the blond. He knew what was coming and he couldn't stop it. For possibly the first time in the history of ever, Stan felt as though he couldn't reach the classroom fast enough.

Unfortunately for Stan, the blond caught up with him.

"So," Kenny started, but before he could continue, he was cut off by Stan.

"Kenny. Don't." It was a threat. The blond ignored it.

"Ah. It's ok. Kyle already told me all about it last night."

"What! What did he say?!" Stan's voice held a hint of apprehension that confirmed Kenny's suspicions.

"Everything. It's ok, you know…sometimes things happen, you know, close quarters and all… ," the blond put forth cautiously and weighed the brunet's reactions. Stan shut his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his noise.

"Kenny…I'm…I'm really confused." It was barely above a whisper.

The blond nearly jumped out of his bones. _Holy shit! Is this for real?! I fucking knew it! Dear god, I'm a genius._

He smiled sympathetically at the brunet, while simultaneously concocting schemes to elicit the details from Kyle.

The bell rang, and the two hurried inside.

-----------------

Kyle's head dropped to his desk. It was now sixth period English, coincidently a class that all four of the boys had together. Mrs./Mr. Garrison, who had somehow moved up the grades with them, had just informed the redhead that his partner for the next three months would be Stan Marsh. For an English project worth roughly forty percent of their second semester grade. The classroom was suddenly engulfed in a suffocating silence.

"Switch me. Now," Stan hissed dangerously.

Garrison, irritated, eyed the brunet. He then rolled his eyes and sighed. The elderly teacher scanned the room, eyes landing on the partnership of Kenny and Bebe. The hooded blond was chewing on an empty otter pop wrapper while sketching obscene doodles on his desk. The other was texting under her desk, frequently looking over at Kenny's doodles, and biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Bebe, would you like to be partners with Stan? And Kyle can be partners with Kenny?" he drawled wearily.

Before Bebe, could answer, Kenny looked over at Stan, then Kyle, and stated, "No." Bebe looked outraged at missing the chance to spend "quality time" with her boyfriend.

Stan whipped around and glowered at the hooded teen, who grinned widely and folded his arms behind his head.

Garrison sighed in exasperation. "Well then there's nothing I can do."

"Bu-"

"You two fags can work it out on your own." the teacher concluded and turned back to the chalk board.

The rest of the class looked excitedly between the brunet and the redhead, waiting for a fight to erupt.

A short while later, the classmates had picked up their bags, and were currently migrating to the library to begin research.

After a brief war concerning the topic of their report, Stan threw his hands up in disgust and defeat, and let Kyle choose the subject matter. After another few minor battles, the two found themselves scanning ancient book spines in the back part of the library. It was dark and silent and it appeared that not many students came back here. It reeked of dust and time.

Stan leafed though a large leather bound journal carelessly until a small whine caught his attention. He glanced over at his partner. Kyle didn't appear to notice; he had one finger running along the rows the novels, and one finger to his lips in concentration. The brunet set the heavy book down on a near by table, and proceeded to investigate. The redhead, looking at the other strangely, decided to follow.

Two cases down, and between a small gap in the rows, Stan could see Craig's back. Upon closer inspection, he noticed pale arms snaked around the teen's neck, and legs about his waist. Craig shifted a bit, and Stan's eyes widened as he recognized Tweek's wild blond hair.

Kyle came up next to Stan and gasped silently. The redhead blushed fiercely at the erotic push and pull

in which Craig and Tweek moved together. The blond clung to the other for dear life and emitted the neediest mewls and gasps Stan had ever heard. He briefly wondered if Kyle would make those noises if Stan were to do the same to him.

He shook his head violently and stood up. The redhead followed his lead, and the two crept back to their bookcase. Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Whoa…" Kyle whispered.

"Yea…" Stan concurred softly, as he stuffed his books in his backpack.

----------------------

Days later on a Thursday night, or rather, morning, the two were sitting against the edge of Kyle's bed, with an abundance of library books, notes, and copied papers spread before them. It was one-ish, give or take twenty minutes. Kyle had changed into in a thin white T shirt and cut off sweatpants, and Stan had stripped down to an under shirt and boxers. It was really too late for either of them to care.

Kyle tossed his head back against the bed and groaned softly. He unfolded his slender legs, letting the notepad slide from his knees, then closed his eyes and dropped his pen to the floor. Stan sighed heavily and shut the heavy book perched on his lap. He glanced over at the redhead and offered a small, tired smile. The late hour had completely drained the two of their animosity for the time being.

After several days of stalling this get together, the two had been forced to pull this all night research session, as their douche bag teacher had informed them that preliminary information was due tomorrow. Or rather, later today.

Stan looked over their work. They had amassed an impressive amount of material.

Kyle gracefully picked himself up from the carpet and headed for the stairs, fetching his mug on the bedside stand.

Stan assumed that the redhead was going to fix more tea.

"Hey," the brunet broke the silence. Kyle turned around quickly. "Can I have some?" the teen gestured to the other's teacup.

Kyle nodded shyly. A few minutes later, the redhead was back with two cups of tea, a teaspoon, and a certain glass honey jar that jogged Stan's memory. The brunet groaned inwardly with frustration. Kyle knelt back down and handed Stan his cup, the teaspoon, and the jar. The redhead himself then leaned back against the bed, bent his knees upwards, and blew softly on his tea. Stan immediately noticed how the soft fabric of Kyle's sweatpants slipped down his slender thighs revealing flawless pale skin. Stan swallowed the sudden strong urge to slide his hands up those legs, and instead focused on taking long swallows of the scorching tea.

The brunet finished first, and kneeled to collect all the papers. Kyle, meanwhile, was fascinated by the way the muscles in Stan's arms and back tightened and released fluidly as he moved. Stan set the papers down in a neat stack by his and Kyle's backpacks, and reached for his shoes.

"Dude, um…if you want you can sleep here. It's like, two, right now. A.M." Kyle proposed hesitantly.

He was fingering the rim of his mug and appeared to be absolutely mesmerized by the color of the carpet.

Stan accepted, after a few moments thought. "…Ok…" It was kinda warm in Kyle's house. And nostalgic.

Kyle got up to lock up the house, and grab an extra pillow and some blankets. The redhead had already put Ike to bed. His parents were in like, Washington or something. His father had left to defend some civil rights case, and his mother was right along side, leading the support campaign.

In Kyle's absence, Stan hopped up onto the edge on the bed and quickly eyed the honey jar. No matter how he avoided it, the brunet's thoughts constantly turned those fingers and that mouth. Curiosity engulfed his thoughts and he plucked the jar from the floor, and plunged his finger in. He quickly licked the substance off his finger, glancing around first to make sure Kyle was no where near. Holy. Freaking. Shit. It was delicious. He dipped his finger in for a second try. Just before his finger could reach his mouth on the third try, he looked up to see Kyle staring at him with a strange look. The redhead had pillows and blankets under his arms.

Stan raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner and held the honey coated finger out to Kyle, with a wicked grin. Kyle called his bluff and strolled over to the bed, kneeling between Stan's thighs and taking the brunet's hand in his own. He gave Stan a wanton smile and pressed Stan's finger against his lips, expecting the other to pull his hand away in alarm. He didn't. A strange tension settled between the two.

An odd sensation consumed Kyle, and his lips twisted into the wicked smile previously mirrored on Stan's features. Kyle flicked Stan's middle digit with his tongue and watched the smirk drop off the other's face.

He ran his tongue along the underside of the finger and bit playfully on the tip. Stan's swallowed dryly as his heart began to accelerate to incredible speeds. The redhead then took Stan's index finger, and proceed to lick the honey from it, tantalizingly slowly. He closed his eyes, and slid the entire digit into his mouth, and sucked gently on it, biting softly at times. Kyle partially opened his eyes to look up at Stan. The brunet's face was flushed, and he had an absolutely predatory glint in his eyes as he stared down at the redhead. Stan's self control was at it's breaking point.

Abruptly, Stan grabbed Kyle's chin with his free hand, and pulled his fingers from the other's mouth. He dragged Kyle up so that the two were eye-to-eye. Kyle made a small cry of surprise and had to place his hands on Stan's thighs to balance himself. The two remained, lips barely touching, for a few heartbeats, before Stan roughly pressed his lips to Kyle's. The two were immediately lost.

Everything that had been pent up for a year unleashed itself violently. Kyle threw his arms around Stan's neck, and at once, the brunet grabbed the other's hips and lifted him into his lap. The redhead curled his legs around Stan's waist and fervently pressed their hips together. Stan broke away from the feverish kissing to throw Kyle back onto his bed and then cover him with his own body. He grabbed a fistful of Kyle's red locks and pulled his head back, giving himself access to the redhead's neck. Kyle arched his back and dug his nails into the other's back, as Stan bit and sucked at his neck. The brunet began to rotate his hips back and forth against the other's, fueled by the shorts gasps and tiny moans Kyle emitted when Stan bit down particularly hard. The redhead clung to him, trying to press himself as close as possible. As Stan grinded him into the mattress, Kyle spread his legs wider; he could feel the hot, electric churning in his stomach and hips disperse throughout his body.

On the bedside table, Stan's cell lit up and began to vibrate. Stan didn't notice, but Kyle did. The caller ID listed Bebe. Kyle immediately stilled and tried to push the other off him. Oh my god. What was he doing?

"Stan! Stan stop now!" Kyle pushed frantically at Stan's chest.

The brunet seemed to have the same realization just moments later and ripped his lips from Kyle's collarbone. He pushed himself away from Kyle with so much force that he almost fell backwards. The two, breathing heavily, stared at each other in utter horror. Stan wiped his lips and flew off the bed. Kyle drew his legs up to his knees and toyed with a loose thread on the comforter. The redhead said nothing as Stan proceeded to grab his backpack and shoes. He strode over to retrieve his cell from the drawer. Kyle winced as Stan coolly refused to acknowledge him. Didn't even look back as he walked out the door and left Kyle alone.

Kyle stared at the loose thread for a while, before he mustered the courage to look around the room. It looked exactly the same, which shouldn't have surprised him. He could feel familiar sting of tears in his eyes, and the rock in his throat. The redhead bit them both back and sighed shakily. He was really too exhausted right now. He looked at the clock. It was almost three. He suspected the shock would settle in sometime tomorrow.

Turning out the lights, Kyle curled up in his comforter and gazed out the window longingly. The wind was bending the trees, and the moonlight illuminated the wispy curves of the ever-approaching storm clouds. Kyle pressed his forehead to the cool glass to look closer. Hazily, he noted that they were closer than this afternoon.

------------

TBC. Ah. Nothing like repressed sexual tension to strengthen a relationship. Feedback on this chapter would be ideal.


	7. Chapter 7

Um yea, so I have no idea what happened to this chapter the first time I posted it, or apparently didn't post it.... Yes, very interesting indeed. What it really is is that technology secretly hates me. Thank you **Newey **for letting me know! And also thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

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The wind was arctic and biting as it encompassed the infuriated brunet, who was stomping in aggravation away from the Broflovski household at the moment. The dense blackness of the night was pricked only by a slice of the moon and dull fluorescent streetlights in everlasting rows. Illuminated dimly by the lamps, chains of homes became uninviting houses with obsidian windows that sucked in every trace of light.

As a blizzard of confusion consumed Stan, his brisk march evolved into an absentminded migration as he wandered the sidewalks listlessly. Coming to a complete stop at the crossroad that led to Stark's Pond, he eyed his surroundings wearily. All the houses looked the same at this hour, and though, theoretically, he should have been able to find his way from the reference point of the pond, his mind wasn't willing to put forth the required energy this early in the morning.

He rubbed frantically at his arms, trying to rekindle some heat. That was funny, he thought as he peered down at himself. He could see his knees. Why could he see them? His mind searched hazily for some form of an answer. It struck him with dread. Oh yeah. He had left his jeans at Kyle's while they had been studying. The brunet unleashed a sigh that sounded much like a sob.

The haggard brunet slumped down to the curbside at put his head in his hands. His mind skipped discursively from thought to thought, with only one conclusive notion forming: _WHAT? _Which was followed immediately by _FUCK. _

What really concerned the brunet though, was that what he had really wanted to do while Kyle had been teasingly sucking his finger (and every time he saw the redhead for that matter), was punch him in the face a couple times, wrap his own fingers around that slender neck, and hear the redhead scream. All fine, dandy, and normal for aggressive teenage boys. But instead he had grabbed Kyle, threw him down on his own bed, and tried to devour his neck. Slightly different from the original plan. How had this other, immensely more dangerous element entered?

"Not again," the brunet grumbled. These thoughts couldn't possibly be returning. Stan was no fag. Hadn't he solved this problem a year ago?!

Waiting for the panic to overtake him, Stan tried desperately to convince himself that maybe he had only _imagined_ grinding Kyle into the mattress? It was comforting thought that he knew was ultimately not true. Ummmm…maybe it was something the redhead put in the tea? Yes. That was definitely it and there was no doubt about it.

_I mean, come on_, the brunet thought desperately, it was Kyle who really initiated this, with his finger sucking and his flimsy pants and his pale neck. What had occurred was just… out-of-place sexual desire because he had actually been thinking about Bebe all night. Yea… Speaking of which-

Stan stuffed his frozen fingers inside his pocket and fished around for his phone. His eyes widened as he realized his cell listed eleven missed calls. He scrolled through them dejectedly. One from Bebe at three yesterday afternoon, followed by one from Kenny, another two from Bebe at six, one from Clyde- what? Why would _he_ call?- then four from his mother spanning the time from nine to one, probably wondering where Stan was…oops. And another two from his girlfriend, one around two, and another an hour later. There was also four text messages from the blonde girl all demanding basically the same question: Where are you? Your mother called. She doesn't know where you are. Please call me! I'm starting to get super worried. Blah Blah Blah.

The brunet flipped the phone shut and rubbed his eyes, questioning how had he could have possibly missed all of those. His phone was on vibrate. The teen bit angrily on his thumb nail trying to exterminate some of his rage. His fingers were slowly paling, then darkening to a light blue, he realized. Flexing his fingers experimentally, Stan noticed crescent shaped indentations in his palms, a result of clenching his fists every time he thought of the redhead. It was really incredible how much he hated Kyle. He couldn't name one reason why- it was the redhead as a whole, every tiny miniscule detail and trait, from the manner in which he bit his lip when he was nervous, to the way the redhead gingerly wiped the dirt from Stan's cuts after football practice. Or at least used to.

He groaned miserably. Nothing made sense when he was around Kyle. It was like his brain was split into fractions with the shards pulling his thoughts in conflicting directions. At the very core of it all was a small, deep-seated seed of affection for Kyle, one that passed the boundaries of what Stan knew was normal. All around that notion were a hundred million other thoughts and distractions Stan had created for himself in an ill-fated attempt to convince himself that that very affection didn't exist. Somehow, over the years, those numerous pieces that amassed into hatred, the simplest way for Stan to deny the existence of this unrequited love/lust thing, not that he would admit that this is what it was.

And it had worked too, for some time. He had hated Kyle. He had HATED Kyle. And then the redhead left for school, along with all of Stan's problems and the brunet had quickly forgot all about his hidden denials and forbidden thoughts. The shards had shattered further and faded one by one, leaving Stan unknowingly vulnerable at the time of Kyle's return.

Stan sighed slowly. He was not ready to endure Kyle's little "games" again. The redhead might have seen them as jokes back then, but they effected Stan more than they should have. Of course, Kyle would never know this. But that line had been crossed now, and Stan was desperate to take more.

Maybe it was ok to want to fuck the redhead, Stan thought timidly. The brunet _was_ a teenager with raging hormones, or so he had always been told. But only as long as those desires didn't go beyond pure and simple fucking. As in no sentimental strings attached. Maybe if he just went ahead and fucked Kyle, and got this phase out of his system, then those thoughts and confusion would cease, plus he wouldn't attack the redhead due to pent up frustration. It made perfect sense to the brunet. This was how it was with every girl he had made it with: He would want a chick, flirt a bit, charm her right into bed, get the whole mess out of his system, then move on to the next one.

So Stan sat, contemplating all the ways in which to entice Kyle into becoming his fuck buddy.

The problem was that Stan wasn't sure if this would be no-strings-attached on Kyle's end. The redhead was pretty sensitive, and the whole thing could result in Stan breaking Kyle's heart. But the brunet hated the redhead, right? So it was flawless.

The sky was starting to lighten, and the street lights were extinguishing themselves one by one when Stan stood up. Every joint in his body was cold and stiff, and even after all this thinking, Stan felt no less uneasy than he had before. He scooped up the backpack he had dropped by a street lamp and set off on the path for his street, too exhausted to think anymore. The journey home was long and frigid.

Closing in on his front door, he sighed heavily and retrieved the house key from a pocket in his backpack. He slipped silently into the house, stopping abruptly when he noticed his mother asleep on the couch. She was in her pink robe and slippers, resting against a fuchsia colored pillow with the house phone resting in her fingers. A wave of immense guilt engulfed the brunet when he realized she must have stayed up all night waiting for him.

Stan dropped the backpack by the floor softly and approached his mother cautiously in the dim room. She was fast asleep. He heaved a blanket from one of the cabinets and pulled it over her body, pecking a kiss quickly on her forehead before climbing the stairs to his own room.

He hit the pillow at six-fifteen and was well on the route to dreamland by the time the sun was peeking over the Colorado mountains.

------------

Coincidently, around at the same time, on the opposite side of town, Kenny McKormick stumbled through his front door and plunged head first in the snow. It seemed his father had gotten a head start with the bottle this morning. Or perhaps he had been drinking through the night until sunrise. Either way, the blonde didn't care. He hopped to his feet and shook the snow from his hair just as he heard the door slam shut behind him. This didn't bother him; this was routine practically everyday.

Kenny checked the time on his beat up cell phone. It was around six-twenty. He took in a deep breath of the cold air and exhaled contentedly. Cold air always tasted the cleanest. The blonde threw back his head to forecast the weather. The storm clouds weren't nearly close enough yet. He predicted a few more weeks of peace, or tension rather, before something erupted.

The blonde went through a mental checklist of places he could crash at before school started. Kyle's house was really an ideal option. His parents were gone, Kyle would made Kenny an awesome breakfast, and the redhead was usually the least peeved of all his friends when the blonde decided to commit early morning break ins, like such. Plus, Kyle was a softie, and Kenny could probably milk the been-out-in-the-cold-and-damp ticket for as much as it was worth. Mind set, Kenny started out the day.

Trotting jauntily down the sidewalks, the blond watched the town sleepily awaken. He crossed the street to snatch an apple from the Stotchs's tree in their front yard, before making a sharp turn down the cul-de-sac to Kyle's. Just as he had taken the first bite of his blood red apple, he heard a feminine, "Hey."

Startled, the blond looked up quickly at the house he stood in front of. It wasn't often that something surprised Kenny. Sitting on the windowsill with one leg dangling out was Bebe in her pajamas- sweatpants and a thin tank top. She was smoking a cigarette pensively in one hand, with the her other arm wrapped around her waist for warmth. Her eyes looked irritated and puffy. She looked down at hooded boy, biting her bottom lip, and held out the package of smokes as an offering, motioning her head to the walnut tree next to her window.

Kenny gave a smile, not a grin, and quickly shimmied up the branches. The blonde girl shifted to one side of the window to make room for him. The hooded teen settled in and slid a stick from the pack. Not having the energy to reach into her room for a lighter, Bebe touched the end her cigarette to his, lighting it. The two sat in meditative silence, watching the sunrise for a while. Kenny eyed the cell phone cradled in her hand and the troubled look marring her otherwise beautiful features and knew what the problem was before the girl even spoke.

He took a long drag, then exhaled a knowing, "How's Stan?" The girl cringed and Kenny had his answer.

Bebe turned to the other, pulling up a fallen strap of her pink tank top back onto her shoulder. She let out an breathy, anguished laugh and pressed one wrist to her right eye, wiping away unshed tears.

"I can't find him." Her voice was shaky and almost broken. "I've been calling all night. So has his mom." She stared out at the horizon. The golden sunlight made her look breathtaking, Kenny thought instantly. "Oh god. I just hope he's ok…" He could hear her swallowing back tears.

_Well that's interesting_, he thought, not all at shocked and not really that interested. He wasn't particularly worried, Stan was big boy and he could handle himself. Plus, he was a quarterback, and if there was _anything _Stan could do, it was run.

The hooded boy laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. To his slight surprise, the girl leaned back into his touch after extinguishing her cigarette. Both gazed longingly at the sunset for a while.

The blond frowned as something occurred to him. "Wasn't he supposed to be with Kyle last night?"

"Yea, but I can't get ahold of him either." She sighed in exasperation. The other raised a suspicious eyebrow. Now _that_ was interesting.

Kenny grinded the last of his cigarette onto the windowsill. "Well I'm heading over to Kyle's right now, so I'll find out for you, huh? Everything will be alright," he reassured her. "I know this from experience."

Bebe gave a breathless "thanks," as Kenny leapt down to the snow ridden ground. He turned to glance up at her with a gentle smile, which morphed thereafter into a confident, toothy grin. Bebe leaned forward to hear as Kenny opened his mouth to speak.

"Put on a bra," he told her teasingly. "I can totally see your tits."

Bebe shrieked, threw a cigarette stub at Kenny's head, and slapped her arms across her chest. She was laughing delightedly, though. She and he shared the same perverted sense of humor, something they had bonded over in English. The blonde girl was still laughing as Kenny tossed a "Thanks for the view!" behind his shoulder, as he jogged off.

-------------

Kenny threw himself through Kyle's bedroom door in a dramatic fashion. The redhead sat up in bed immediately, before taking in Kenny's familiar form. The blond was shivering and panting as he leaned against the wooden doorframe. Kyle scrambled out of bed.

"Kenny?! Jesus, are you ok? Here, come here." He pointed to the bed, which Kenny promptly and happily jumped into, as Kyle pulled on some clothes.

"How did you get into my house?" Kyle asked distractedly as he wrestled with a t- shirt.

Kenny coughed slightly for effect, and pulled the covers up to his chin protectively. "Picked the lock," he stated as off-handedly as possible. Kyle stilled with his pants and turned around. The redhead looked at the blond with an unreadable expression for a good four and a half seconds of silence.

Kenny interrupted Kyle's glare with a blatantly fake sneeze, following by an onslaught of artificial shivering. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in mild annoyance.

"Ok. I'm gonna make some breakfast. Just warm up here, I guess."

"Thanks," Kenny replied faintly, as if he was dying. "Toast!" the blond called out, as Kyle was exiting the room. "With the blackberry jam. Not too burnt…" He trailed off and coughed violently, adding the finishing touches.

When he could finally hear Kyle rummaging around in the kitchen, Kenny sat up and glanced around the room. He climbed out of bed and trotted to the computer. The blond was just about to boot up the machine, when something far, _far_ more fascinating caught his eye. There, sitting in a heap by the foot of Kyle's bed were a pair of dark, worn jeans. He looked closer. Definitely not Kyle's, they weren't stamped with some ridiculous European designer on the pockets. Kenny stood up with a sneaking suspicion and approached the article of clothing gleefully.

Picking them up with the tips of his fingers, as if they were a piece of incriminating evidence, the blond held them at arms length to take a good look. Oh yes, they were Stan's. Thousands of evil plans sprouted at once in Kenny mind. He folded the jeans neatly and hid them away inside his coat, before bounding down the stairs to breakfast.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Kyle was furiously thinking of alternate routes to school by which he would never have to look upon Stan's face. The redhead was beyond confused and completely humiliated. What had happened last night? What had he been thinking?! Stan wasn't supposed to sit there and let Kyle suck his finger! The brunet was supposed to push Kyle the fuck away, laugh hysterically with the redhead, and move on. That was how it always used to go-back when things were better, before the fire. Yes, admittedly it was a little strange how the two used to flit around and toss sexual innuendos at one another, but that was how it had always been. It was never supposed to go further, no matter how curious either was.

The redhead shoved a few slices of bread into the toaster and leaned back against the counter. So basically, Stan had attacked him. Kyle quickly wondered if maybe the brunet liked him, just even a little, but dismissed the notion. Who was he kidding? Stan _hated_ the redhead. Well, kind of. This week, things had really been looking up for the two, even after their little incident in the storage closet at Raisins (it was an unspoken rule never to talk to each other about it). Apparently Stan was starting to forgive Kyle for whatever the redhead had done. It was mostly still silent quarreling and glaring, but they talked…sort of. It was more of a new beginning to a friendship, rather than a rekindling of their former one.

The redhead sighed miserably. He should had known better than to pull that little stunt last night. He should have known that things wouldn't just play out like they used too- everything was completely different now. The old Stan would have immediately understood it as a joke. The current one obviously didn't. Still, that line had been crossed, and left Kyle aching for more.

Kyle groaned. Logically, last night never should have occurred. The redhead wasn't supposed to do that. And Stan wasn't supposed to react that way. And the brunet's attack _definitely_ wasn't supposed to feel that _good_. But nothing ever went the way it was supposed to with Stan. And none of this answered Kyle's question as to why Stan had jumped him. Maybe he had just been really horney over Bebe? Possibly. But the redhead really couldn't see any resemblance in himself to the blonde girl. Kyle clenched his fists angrily. He knew he wouldn't be getting any answers out of Stan. What did it matter now anyways? Stan obviously didn't feel anything for Kyle, or he wouldn't have stormed out like the whole thing was some huge mistake.

Rubbing his eyes, the redhead made an prompt decision: If Stan even still wanted to be friends now (and Kyle desperately hoped he did), Kyle wouldn't make any more rash moves like last night. There would be absolutely no sexual joking, references to the fact, or acknowledgment of anything ever occurring between the two. That was how friendships were supposed to be anyways. The key to restoring their relationship, Kyle reckoned, was to try and spend more time with the brunet, without absolutely anything sexual occurring. Genius.

Hearing footsteps down the stairs, Kyle glanced dubiously at the blond who was nearly skipping to the table. Ike was already seated and wolfing down his breakfast, and Kyle sat down to proof read his younger brother's homework. The redhead pushed a plateful of food towards Kenny, taking a delicate bite of his own toast.

"You sure got better quick."

"Mmmm hmmm," the blond replied while chewing at a section of orange. Kyle snorted quietly and went back to Ike's paper. The redhead seemed a bit troubled this morning.

Kenny peered stealthily at the dark bite marks at the base of Kyle's neck; they were almost hidden by his jacket. The blond nodded to himself pleasantly and finished his food.

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Kyle became unusually fidgety as he and Kenny rounded the corner to the bus stop. He was biting his bottom lip viciously while toying with the collar of his shirt. Stan was already waiting by the sign, and Kenny felt Kyle momentarily stop in dread. Upon arrival, Kenny greeted Stan with a slap on the shoulder, as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Kenny hummed cheerfully as he smoked, completely ignoring the way Kyle stared off into the distance, with his back to Stan, and the way the brunet constantly bit his fingernails and scuffed at the snow with his shoes. The tension was like rising plaster. After dropping his cigarette into the snow, Kenny turned and leaned against the rusted metal pole of the bus sign. He cleared his throat nonchalantly.

"You know, Bebe was looking for you last night," he stated casually to Stan, and the other two stilled. Kenny chuckled lightly and glanced towards Kyle.

"You got a little something here," the blond motioned to his neck.

"What?" Kyle whispered shakily.

Kenny reached over and carelessly tugged down on the collar of Kyle's shirt, exposing dark, violent bite marks and hickies. The redhead was absolutely frozen in fear. Stan stared covertly at the marks he'd made on the redhead's skin, pleased with his own work, in some sick, twisted way.

"Yea. Must have burned yourself with the straightening iron this morning, huh?" Kenny asked with happy grin and Stan snickered a little. Kenny released his shirt, and Kyle jumped back, face flushed.

The sounds of huffing breaths and a derogatory, "Hey fags," announced Cartman's arrival. The heavy boy was sporting buttoned blazer stretched wide across his torso, and his customary yellow pad of paper under his arm. The three gazed incredulously at the other's attire.

"The Park Gazette's doing an piece on me and Wendy and how were basically gonna beat the asses of everyone else at the state debate comp. Yea." Cartman was positively beaming with smug self-satisfaction.

"What do you think about that Jew boy?" He inquired, voice tinged with malice, trying to edge Kyle into a fight.

"Good for you," the other replied, clearly preoccupied with other thoughts. Cartman huffed in disappointment.

"Lame."

Kenny cleared his throat after several moments, and reached into his orange parka, unveiling the jeans.

"By the way," he informed Stan. "You left these at his house last night." He pointed to Kyle in reference.

They both froze instantaneously with wide eyes. Cartman glanced with wild curiosity between the two.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit _accurately represented the thoughts dominating both Kyle and Stan's minds.

"No! Um those are…ummm…mine…?" Kyle offered shakily.

Kenny snorted in amusement. "The tags in the back are in English. You only wear things by Dolce and Ganabba or some shit-"

"It's Gabbana, Kenny!" Kyle shouted accusingly.

"Exactly! You expect me to believe you willingly wear these?!" The blond held out the pants to Stan, who was struggling for an excuse as Cartman cackled with laughter in the background. The heavier set boy was hunched over to the ground, shaking violently.

"Oh mah god! Oh mah god! You guys seriously- I can't breathe! S-Stan fucked the Jew boy! Haha oh mah god!" Kenny stood by disinterested as both Stan and Kyle stared at the ground with crimson faces.

Cartman calmed down for a few seconds, before his laughter started back up. "OH KYLE you filthy girl! AHAH!" Kyle clenched his fists as he shook with rage.

"We didn't-" The brunet and redhead started at the same time, but were ultimately outspoken by Eric's guffawing.

"I DID NOT FUCK HIM!" Stan screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing at Kyle. This was consequently overheard by a busload of elementary schoolers passing by. Kyle covered his eyes with his hands and prayed that Ike was not somehow on that vehicle.

This went on for some time.

After a long, _long_ while, the foursome eventually started off to school- Cartman in the lead, his laughter on and off, Kyle next, gazing off at the mountains, and Kenny and Stan bringing up the rear silently.

The blond turned to the brunet who was staring at his feet while he walked. Kenny nudged the other in a teasing fashion, finally catching his attention. Stan glanced at Kenny irritably, opening his mouth several times to speak. Nothing came out. The brunet sighed in defeat. In what words would he be able to explain to Kenny that while Stan had really been trying to kill Kyle, it had somehow transformed into Stan trying to fuck Kyle, an interesting turn of events indeed.

"So this is what happens when you two are left to your own devices. Funny, I pictured more of an all out brawl, but I suppose angry sex is just as effective." The blond mused.

The brunet shoved the blond away. "Fuck off. You know I hate the Jew boy," he spat venomously.

Kenny smiled in a fashion that made Stan's blood boil. "Yea, well, you know what they say about hate, love, and that fine line in between."

The brunet's eyes widened, and Kenny figured he had hit the nail straight on the head. The blond gazed up as Stan spluttered some sort of response. The clouds were distant, but dark. Kenny gave it three weeks, tops.

-------------

TBC.

This chapter was long and hard to write because the characters are so confused write now. I hope most of you could follow, but for those of you who found it a tad perplexing, it goes something like this: Stan's in denial and hates Kyle because he really likes Kyle. Then he decides that maybe he likes Kyle, so he should fuck him to get the feelings out of his system. Stan plans to seduce Ky. Kyle decides that he can no longer joke with Stan and will not let anything even remotely sexual happen between them again, because he wants them to be friends (are you catching the conflict of interest between the two here?). There, see. I could have written this chapter in four sentences.

Next chapter, the real action begins.

Review please!


	8. Chapter 8

Hello, hello. Sorry for the wait. This school year had been a bitch. Already.

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It was late Monday afternoon when Kyle Broflovski decided that returning to South Park had been somewhat similar to uncapping a vial of madness. He was sitting lazily atop an enormous pumpkin that had miraculously survived to the first of December, while staring as his classmates roamed about the decaying squash fields. A nightmarishly dark curtain of clouds had begun to descend over the town, and Kyle's friends were determined to rig the lightening traps early this year.

Kyle sighed dismally and readjusted the stylish aviators resting on his head. Squinting, the redhead could just make out the bluish tint of tiny glass bottles tied to the elaborate metal contraptions standing vertically in the earth. His peers were scattered in clusters about the vast field, setting up the traps one by one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stan and Kenny helping Bebe and Wendy push a metal apparatus upright, while Cartman supervised from the sidelines with a bag of potato chips.

A murder of ravens soared overhead, silhouetting the sky and squawking obnoxiously. The redhead closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying to absorb the warmth of the sun while it was still there. He let his mind ponder the cool breeze, the far off laughter and the feel of the pumpkin hide against his palms. He sucked in deep breaths through his nose. The air smelled of sunlight, sweetness from the rotting squashes, and the faintest traces of smoke.

Kyle's musings were at once interrupted by a looming shadow blocking out the sun. Opening his brilliant green eyes slowly against the intense sunlight, he was met with the Stan's silhouette. The brunet stared down at the other quizzically.

Kyle sighed and shut his eyes again, pulling his sunglasses over them. He sighed histrionically with annoyance.

"Your blocking my light," he stated rather flippantly.

"You gonna help us or sit on your ass?" Stan demanded to know.

The redhead snorted delicately. "You can't catch lightening in a bottle, Stan. I don't understand why you even try," he stated matter-o-factly.

The brunet gave his most sincere efforts to keep the murderous glare off his face. "We do this every year. It's tradition, Ky," he said evenly.

"It's stupidity, actually," the redhead announced. In all truth, Kyle really found this annual activity quite endearing, but the redhead was begging to fight Stan on everything and anything.

They hadn't exactly talked about what had happened the night they…you know. In fact, Kyle never even alluded to the event because actually, it had never happened as far as he was concerned. The redhead was determined to carry on as normal, and Stan didn't seem to mind. Although, lately, the brunet had been making more attempts to strike up a conversation with the Jew. Kyle was very pleased with this headway.

Stan exhaled an uneven breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, signaling his fury to the other. "Kyle." He began irritably. The redhead's attention was captured. Kyle secretly loved the way his own name sounded coming from Stan's lips. "We need one more person to help set up the bottle there," the brunet pointed towards Cartman and Kenny in reference.

"Get Clyde to help," the redhead whined. He was being a brat and he knew it.

"Clyde's trying to do his own with Token over there!" Stan practically screamed in frustration.

Kyle pursed his lips and groaned softly. The brunet took a step towards the redhead.

"Ky-"

"Hey, hey, my light," the redhead demanded, snapping his fingers at the other.

The brunet finally let out a short scream in aggravation, digging his finger nails into his fisted palms, attempting to squash the need to physically tackle the redhead to the ground and teach him a lesson. Kyle watched this show with overt amusement. He knew it was incredibly immature, but now that Stan and he were more or less on "speaking terms," the two felt the unexplainable need to elicit rises out of each other. The animosity between them had not been relieved, only covered up with unspeakable events and the mutual desire to initiate a ceasefire. The war had been swept under the rug, but there was still a secret battle for dominance.

Kyle, in the days since the attack that never really happened, had decided to breach the everlasting acrimony by striking up conversation and resisting the urge to criticize the moody brunet, hoping to smooth their new beginning over. Stan, meanwhile, had recognized the peace offering and had taken it, with other intentions in mind. The brunet had thrown caution to the wind in his attempts to debunk his true feelings for the Jew. He allowed himself to indulge those twisted, sinful thoughts night after night, justifying it all with the belief that this phase would end after he got Kyle into bed. He would revive Ky's "games" again, and reverse the tables. This time, it would be Stan teasing and the redhead resisting.

"Oi!" The two turned slightly as Kenny joined up with them. Stan glanced over at the field- the catcher was already up.

"Tweek and Craig helped out," the blond responded to Stan's unasked question.

Bebe and Wendy trotted over casually, chatting about their plans for the weekend. The blonde girl wrapped her arms around Stan's chest lovingly from behind and rested her chin on his broad shoulder. The brunet teen turned his face to meet hers as she placed a chaste kiss on his lips. She smiled brilliantly at her boyfriend, who could only offer a weak smile in return. Kyle and Kenny simultaneously looked away in separate directions.

The sun had just barely dipped behind the mountains and the night was approaching swiftly. The winds were becoming chilly and brisk. Friends and classmates all piled into each cars respectively and headed back to town. Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman stuffed themselves into the back of Token's white Mercedes- Cartman claiming shotgun and Stan sandwiched between Kyle and Kenny in the backseat. Almost immediately after Token had pulled onto the highway, Cartman had predictably shot off a black joke, spiraling he and Token headfirst into intense arguing, with Kenny adding comments from the back seat to fuel the fire.

Stan and Kyle remained silent and oblivious in their own world, both too distracted by the heat seeping through their jeans where their legs were pressed together. The redhead's senses had been kicked into a frenzy by this, and he tried to calm himself by staring out the window. He could feel every breath, every movement the brunet made. Stan glanced sideways at Kyle, who seemed to be mesmerized by the scenery beyond the glass. He leaned further into the redhead, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had captured the beauty's attention. The brunet settled into the redhead's shoulder and slid his hand up Kyle's clothed leg, grabbing his knee gently. The redhead jumped a little and Stan smiled. The brunet tilted his head downwards to whisper in Ky's ear.

"What's got you so captivated?"

Kyle shuddered slightly at the husky tone in Stan's voice and way his lips and tongue just barely brushed his ear. The brunet's breath was warm against his neck and the redhead could feel the goosebumps rising along his flesh. Kyle jerked his head away quickly and exhaled shakily, frowning at the other in confusion. Stan sat back up to his former position and covertly gazed at the way the redhead's cheeks were slightly flushed. His hand was still planted on Kyle's knee.

A while later, the car had become darker as the night had dawned. Token and Cartman had settled down and Kenny was lightly snoozing next to Stan. Kyle felt the brunet's fingers twitch against his knee, and suddenly became acutely aware of those digits stroking his inner knee and thigh. He swallowed hard and, against his will, let his eyes slip shut to enjoy the stimulation. The gentle swaying of the car, coupled with Stan's warmth next to him and his roaming fingers, rocked the redhead into a trance. Stan, simultaneously, was fascinated with the way Kyle tilted his head back ever so slightly, eyes shut and lips parted, and a flush across his aristocratic features. The brunet wanted to trail his fingers further up Kyle's thigh, he wanted to tease the redhead, make him squirm and pant and beg.

But Stan held back. _Easy does it_ he reminded himself. This whole procedure would take time and probably more patience from the brunet than he was willing to give.

Several moments later, the car came to an abrupt stop as Token let Kenny and Cartman out in front of the fat boy's house. Kyle was violently jerked from his personal paradise and snapped his knee away from Stan's treacherous hands with a frown. The redhead huffed irritably and scooted himself further from the brunet on the car's soft leather seats. He shot Stan what he hoped was a deadly and threatening look, but the larger teen could see the confusion laced up in Kyle's features.

Silly Kyle. He always reacted the same way when Stan pulled something moderately suggestive. A silent scolding and a desperate plea for Stan to cease his actions. Kyle, at this point, had figured out that Stan had decided to revive and reverse those little games the redhead used to play with him. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut. They were supposed to have been harmless fun back then. The redhead, driven by aching curiosity, had been thirsting to find out how far he could push Stan. Just to see that desperate desire in the brunet's eye as Kyle drove him crazy with want. Just to quench those heated fantasies of Stan snapping. Pushing Kyle up against the wall and pounding into to him mercilessly. Making him beg for more…

Of course, these were not thoughts Kyle would readily admit to. And of course, Kyle never truly expected this to happen- he only relied on Stan's own self control to hold the brunet in place while Kyle flitted about relentlessly. And also of course, Kyle, surprisingly, had never thought that one through to the end. Making your super best friend control himself as you endlessly teased him? Not such a smart idea in the long run.

But who would have guessed the consequences to come a year later, as the two fought for dominance over a battle in which the two were rapidly forgetting the cause. Really, what _were _they fighting over? Hmmm. Kyle had no idea- he would ask Stan later, after he had kicked the brunet's ass. But seriously- using Ky's old tricks against him? Under different circumstances, the redhead would have commended Stan for his cleverness.

The redhead sighed inwardly as Token pulled up to the curb in front of Stan and Kyle's neighborhood. They exited through the same side of the car, Stan right after Kyle. The most infuriating part of the whole mess was that Kyle knew Stan was only teasing him to display his dominance in the fight. The brunet didn't really like the redhead- Stan had Bebe after all. Stupid fucking gorgeous Bebe. She was so sweet and unknowing, Kyle couldn't even bring himself to hate the girl.

The two parted wordlessly on Kyle's street corner. As they walked off in different directions, the redhead quickly glanced back at Stan's retreating body, only to find that the brunet was looking back at him.

---------------

A few days later, on a Friday night, Craig swung by Kyle's to pick him up. There was another party at Clyde's, and no one missed his parties. Abruptly and without warning, Stan had broken up with Bebe on Tuesday, an action that placed Stan at spot number one on her friends' hit list. The girl spent the remainder of the week crying on Wendy's shoulders in the afternoons, and Kyle's in the evenings after Wendy left for the library with Cartman. Kyle had to admit, even with Wendy to take Cartman off their hands, the town was a little quiet without Cartman's attempts to over throw the mayor or steal ten million dollars. Kyle, for the life of him, could not figured out what had occurred between his blonde friend and brunet fiend.

Not that it was really any of his business.

Kyle had just finished showering and was waiting for Craig's truck to pull up to his drive way. The redhead quickly spritzed on his French cologne (which Cartman mercilessly teased him for everyday) and tucked his sleek black cell phone and house keys into the pocket of his jeans. Hearing the beep of a car horn in front of the house, he briskly bounded down the stairs to the door, locking it from the outside as he left. Ike had left for his friend's for the weekend.

The redhead raced to the car to avoid the icy winds, jumping into the passenger seat and slamming the car door. The sky was grim and grey- the stuff of nightmares. Kyle breathed into his hands to warm them and glanced over at Craig, whose face was lit up by his cell phone light as he texted- Tweek most likely. Speaking of which…

"Hey man. Thanks for the ride. Where's Tweek?" Kyle asked as he rubbed his iced hands together. This was possibly the first time the redhead had seen Craig attached from his blonde half.

"Sick." The other responded simply. His tone, however, suggested that Tweek was indeed not sick, and that he was not going to inform Kyle of anything further. The redhead took the hint.

The dark haired boy put the car into reverse and started to pull into the street, watching Kyle from his peripherals the entire time. The redhead felt like a caged mouse under Craig's observant eyes.

"Sooo…" Kyle started uneasily. "I was talking to Bebe earlier and she said that Clyde's gonna-"

"He got bored with her." Craig interrupted flatly.

"Excuse me?" The redhead responded, wondered where he had missed _that_ part of the conversation.

"Marsh. He got bored with Bebe. Its how he is with all of 'em." Craig glanced into his rearview mirror as he switched lanes.

"Hey," Kyle defended lightly, "I'm sure Stan had good reasons." It was a lie. They both knew it.

"You're stickin up for him?" There was only the slightest hint of curiosity in Craig's otherwise uninterested voice.

"Well… I mean, were friends…ish. Sort of." Craig snorted. "Hey! At least were back on the right track… I think." Kyle responded. The redhead started up again sadly. "I just miss him… you know? I want things to be back to way they used too. I'm so tired of fighting- I don't even know what its all about. And… and I think Stan wants that too, you know? Otherwise, he wouldn't even be talking to me." Kyle suddenly felt very heavy as he gazed out the window.

Craig didn't respond immediately, so Kyle fiddled with his cell phone for a while.

"You know he just wants to fuck you, right?" The redhead, extremely startled, and whipped his around to look at Craig, who was still staring straight ahead at the road.

"What?" It came out loud and alarmed, yet deathly quiet at the same time.

"He's not interested in your friendship Broflovski, he's interested in you're a-"

"That is not true." Kyle insisted loudly, if only to assure himself of this in his own mind.

"Yea. Ok." The other boy agreed sarcastically. "Look man. I've seen the way he looks at you. It's the exact same look as when he started dating Bebe. And before that with Heidi."

Kyle was alarmed to find that he actually knew that look. That wicked, hungry look with the predatory half grin and the smug eyes. There was _no_ way Stan looked at him with that look.

"No!" The redhead chuckled nervously. "No, you've got it wrong. Stan and I… he's definitely not like that. I'm his friend- _going_ to be his friend. That's what he wants."

"No. He wants to bend you over in his bed and fuck you raw for a couple nights."

Kyle blushed a deep crimson at the vulgarity in Craig's words. "I-"

"Hmmm. But maybe if you moan loud enough he'll keep you on for a couple weeks"-Kyle opened his mouth to scream at this but no words formed from his mouth. Craig kept up with his musings. "I don't know Broflovski, how well do you beg?"

"Why the FUCK are you telling me this?!" The redhead exploded angrily.

Craig chuckled as he pulled into Clyde's neighborhood. The sound of pounding base and drunken shrieks could be heard from the curb. He parked expertly and turn the car off. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned the redhead and sighed.

"You're a nice kid, Broflovski. I would be a douche if I didn't warn you ahead of time, since no one else is going to apparently." He leaned forward towards the redhead, fingering one of his red locks between his fingers. Kyle blushed furiously and tried edge away, only to find himself trapped against the passenger door.

Craig frowned suddenly and sniffed the air. The pressed his nose into the crook of Kyle's neck and inhaled deeply, making all the hairs on the redhead's neck tingle.

"Hmmm," Craig commented, the vibration of his voice against Kyle's slender neck. "You smell good." The brunet announced as he pulled away. He sat up and pushed the driver's door open. Halfway out of the car, he turned back to Kyle, reaching one hand out to brush his thumb over the redhead's lips. "Be careful," he warned with playful grin. With that, Craig shut the door and walked down the sidewalk to the party, leaving Kyle alone in the car, flushed cheeks and rubbing his lips.

The redhead scoffed as he entered Clyde's house. Everyone he ever knew in South Park plus more were all there- laid back on the couch, hanging from the stairs, dancing half naked on the tables…

Kyle had gotten his fill of drunken partying in Europe. Where alcohol was legal, and not some glittering novelty like it was in the U.S. He sighed and looked around, hoping to find someone decently sober to talk to.

"Ky! Omygod Kyle! Kylie!" The redhead groaned and turned to greet Kenny. So predictable. The blonde boy made his way over to the redhead, tripping on some empty plastic cups along the way. "Duuude. Fuck I love you man." The drunken one announced as he enveloped Kyle in a brotherly hug. Right behind Kenny was Bebe, equally as intoxicated with the straps of her dress falling off her shoulders. She laughed uncontrollably, stumbling against the wall. She reached her arms out to Kenny for help, who gladly complied and the two went about their merry way.

The redhead walked around for a while, constantly bombarded with giddy greetings from all his school mates. When he had finally had enough of trying to hold people up as they attempted to converse with him, he climbed up the stairs to investigate further. It was much quieter upstairs-only one couple madly making out in the hallway. The redhead side passed them with ease and headed for a hopefully empty room.

He entered what he assumed to be Clyde's father's study, only to find another person there, black as night in the shadows of the dark room. The person was leaning out the window, perhaps studying all commotion outside.

"Oh. Sorry." The redhead apologized before moving to leave the room. The figure turned and the moonlight caught his profile. It was Stan.

_Oh fuck no_ Kyle thought immediately. Not tonight after the drive with Craig.

"Ky?" Stan asked softly. That voice… so gentle…like the time in the storage closet. Kyle could have smashed his head against the file cabinet next to him. Wait what time in what storage closet? Nothing like that ever happened. That's right, he reminded himself.

"Yea." He confirmed his identity and took one step into the room. Stan motioned with his hand for Kyle to come closer, and the redhead approached cautiously. Taking a closer look at Stan, Kyle could defiantly tell the other was a little buzzed. There was a lazy half grin on his face and his words were slightly slurred.

"You're drunk." Kyle stated, for lack of something better to say.

"Mmmm… a lil. Not wasted." Stan informed. Kyle relaxed. Not drunk enough to try something dangerous, not sober enough to execute the actions. The brunet sighed and flopped into a large leather swivel chair adjacent to the window.

"Hey. 'member when we used to sneak out at night to go count stars at the park?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Yea man. Those were good times." He looked out the window briefly- no stars were visible with the storm clouds hanging in the skies.

Stan chuckled. "Yea. We always tried to see who would find the big dipper first. You won mosta the time."

He knew it was cheesy, but Kyle's heart felt warmer. "That's cause I knew where the north star was. You never listened to me when I tried to point it out."

Stan smiled and looked away. "That's cause I was never lookin at the stars man. I was lookin at you."

Kyle pause. _Wait, what?_

"Wait, what?" he inched closer to Stan. At once, Stan's arms flew out and wrapped Kyle, pulling the redhead down into his lap with Kyle's back pressed against Stan's chest. The brunet laughed against Kyle's neck, inhaling deeply.

"Dude. You smell sooo...goood." He breathed out the last word and tightened his hold on the redhead. Kyle, who was squirming against Stan's lap, stilled at once when he felt something dangerously hard pressing up against his ass. _Oh hell no_ the redhead thought furiously as all of Craig's warnings rushed back to him.

Stan languidly began to press kisses down the back of Kyle's neck and shoulders, fascinated by the short gasps and squeaks the other emitted when he bit down particularly hard. Kyle was having a hard time breathing as his body heated up against his will.

"Stan…" The word came out breathlessly and weak, not in the authoritative way Kyle had been going for.

"Stan," he tried again louder. Stan simply laughed at the other's attempts and continued to make his way down the redhead's neck with his mouth.

Kyle shuddered. "Stop…" he whispered desperately.

"No." Stan's voice was rough and firm.

Kyle was torn between ripping his body from Stan's grip or letting Stan have his way with him a little more. The redhead gasped as Stan bit down hard where his neck and shoulder met, and his decision was made for him. His eyes slipped shut and he could feel heat start to pool around his groin. In his arousal, he began to slowly grind himself against the brunet, who growled in approval and pressed his own hard on deeper against Kyle's ass.

Just as the intensity began to pick up and the two started to move harder against each other, light burst into the room as Token and Clyde stumbled in laughing. Kyle flew off Stan's lap so fast that he fell backwards onto the floor. It didn't matter. The other two were so wasted they had yet to recognized the presence of two others in the room. Stan narrowed his eyes in rage at the two, who didn't notice at all. He stood up and offered his hand to Kyle.

"Come on, lemme take you home." Kyle allowed himself to hoisted up by the stronger brunet. He nodded absently, his mind too fogged with arousal to know what he was really agreeing to. The two left the room together, followed by shouts of,

"Hey- Wha! Stan and Kyle! It's Kan and Style! Duudes…"

Stan grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him through the throngs of drunken people. It took several minutes to reach Stan's car. Stan opened the passenger door for Kyle and practically threw him in. Once they had finally made it out of the neighborhood, Kyle asked confused,

"Dude. Um. Where are we going again?"

"My house." The brunet answered simply.

"Oh." Kyle responded absent mindedly. "Dude it's been so long since we've had a sleepover."

Stan chuckled wickedly. "Well, now you can reacquaint yourself with my bed. I won't be letting you leave it."

This one statement shook Kyle from his daze. He immediately remembered something about being bent over Stan's bed and… oh fuck.

"No!" Kyle shouted quickly. "Dude no. I'm not sleeping with you man." He paused to review how ridiculous that had just sounded.

Apparently Stan thought the same thing as he raised one eyebrow and grinned. He reached over and grabbed Kyle's knee. The redhead quickly jerked back.

"I'm serious dude! Don't fucking touch me! I've seen the tricks you pull to make girls just fall in bed with you! I'm not one of them! You're disgusting!"

The car screeched to a standstill as Stan stopped in front of his house. He swiftly unbuckled himself and Kyle and forcibly slammed the redhead against the passenger door. Kyle had a sudden rush of deju vu… The brunet grabbed a fist full of the redhead's hair and forced his head back while he began to place violent bite marks on Kyle's neck.

He dragged the redhead from the car and up to the front door, throwing Kyle against it as they continued their feverish activities.

Kyle mewled as he fought the onslaught of heat that began to flood his body once more. He spread his legs wider and allowed Stan to press his hips fully against his own. Stan left Kyle's neck to nip at his eye lobe.

"Disgusting, huh?" Stan whispered in amusement. "My tricks- they could make you scream."

With that final note, the brunet opened and pushed them both through the front door, locking it behind him.

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TBC

Ahaha! I left the good parts until next time. Review please! It helps me update faster...


	9. Chapter 9

WHAT? An actual update on this story?! Oh yes.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chap! Really insprired me to update. Hope you all had fantastic holidays!

* * *

Well, it was Friday night- or was it Saturday morning? Kenny McKormick sure as hell couldn't tell as he stumbled along the sidewalk with Bebe Stevens hanging on his shoulder. The two had left the party around forty minutes ago, and had since traveled an astounding three blocks. The pair giggled uncontrollably, crashing into nearly ever street light as they swerved their way through the streets. Kenny was absolutely positive this was the funniest escapade he had ever taken on in his life. Bebe was enjoying belting out drunken versions of classic Christmas tunes when they passed the library.

"…with the children snowbelling and someone is telling you la la good cheer… it's the most wonderful time of th-" Kenny grabbed Bebe as he saw the dark figures of Wendy and Cartman descending the steps of the library.

"Shhhh Bebe" he advised in what he drunkenly perceived to be a whisper, but was actually closer to a yell. "Lets sneak them up!"

Bebe agreed with a somewhat repressed giggle then screamed forth:

"Homygod Wends! Wendy Tesaburger! Light. Of. My. Life. Come 'er."

Cartman and Wendy, passionately discussing proper evasive tactics for debating, stopped dead in their tracks as they hit the bottom step. The two shared looks of equal annoyance and waited for their intoxicated comrades to stumble up to them.

Bebe reached Wendy with eager enthusiasm and tripped into her arms.

"Mmmm. Merry Christmas Wends. God I'm sucha good friend" the blonde girl mumbled into her shoulder.

Wendy sighed loudly and stroked the other's hair. Her nose crinkled in disgust as she smelled the sour stench of alcohol on Bebe's breath. Kenny leaned on Cartman, attempting to converse with the heavier boy, but failing tremendously as he dissolved into laughter.

Cartman snickered loudly and turned to Wendy.

"Hey. Hey. I have such a genius idea. Let's fuck with their heads and -"

"Eric…" Wendy groaned out in irritation. "Lets just get them home. Maybe we can drop them off at Kyle's."

"Kyle's not home" Bebe informed them lazily. "…saw him leave in Stan's car."

Wendy and Cartman immediately glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.

"He's with Stan?" Wendy questioned.

"Duuuude" Kenny chuckled. "He really shouldn' drive. Fuckin' douche was waaasted."

Wendy groaned in annoyance as Bebe began to fall asleep on her.

"Lets get them…somewhere," She advised, turning to Cartman.

"Meeehh…" the heavy boy whined, before stopping abruptly at a sharp glare from Wendy.

Wendy slung Bebe's arm around her shoulder and proceeded to half-drag the blonde towards Cartman's car. Kenny, seeing this, leaned onto Cartman for the same treatment, but was violently shoved away.

"Asshole" the hooded boy growled out.

Cartman snorted and started off after Wendy, Kenny stumbling after.

Meanwhile at Stan's house, Kyle was fighting the brunet boy tooth and nail as he was shoved up against the wall in Stan's living room. The brunet held the redhead fast against the wall and attempted to dive in for a kiss, but Kyle turned his cheek in confused defiance. The more the redhead squirmed, the tighter Stan held him.

"Dude. No! Get off me!"

Stan chuckled victoriously as he kept his former best friend imprisoned.

Kyle was frightened. _The fuck?! Where are Stan's parents_, he thought frantically. He twisted his head to look up at the dark balcony, and the brunet took the opportunity to attack Kyle's unguarded neck. The redhead whimpered, trying to stop the rising temperature in his body. He bit his lip in a futile effort to control his quickening breaths. He had never wanted and not wanted something so badly in his life.

Stan's hips were moving against Kyle's in way that made it impossible for the redhead to see straight. He grabbed Stan's shoulder's, not sure if he was trying to push the brunet away, or bring him closer. Stan, reacting to Kyle's subtle embrace, brought his hand to the other's neck, stroking Kyle's cheek gently with his thumb, an interesting contrast to way he was devouring the opposite side of the redhead's neck.

The hand that was not caressing Ky's cheek began to tangle itself with the hem of Kyle's sweater, slipping underneath. The redhead gasped shortly at the sensations of Stan's cool fingers trailing up his abdomen. Stan pressed his hand flat against the redhead's slender torso and slid it up, memorizing the crevices of the light muscle, eating it all up greedily with his hand, owning it. He casually stroked a nipple, eliciting a shocked gasp from the redhead.

Kyle, dazed, confused, and aching with want, knew he was losing this game rapidly. His mind was filled with nothing but Stan- his hands, his mouth, his warmth. It all felt so _good_. He was filled sudden remorse for the future. Stan was going to take him, use him up, then toss him away in front of everyone he knew. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure and despair as the brunet bit down gently on his neck right under his eye lobe. The redhead inhaled sharply and could feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. Stan was going to completely and utterly humiliate Kyle, and there was nothing the redhead could do to stop his own body from wanting it.

"No, no, no, no…" began to float softly and unconsciously from the redhead's mouth.

Stan, startled, pulled his head from Kyle's neck as the redhead continued mewling his mantra. Feeling the absence of stimulation, Kyle opened his eyes to see Stan's deep blue ones staring into him. The expression on the brunet's face surprised him. Stan was looking into Kyle's eyes, not at them. _Into _them. It was a deeply impassioned and deeply… _concerned_ look. The redhead's heart skipped a few beats as Stan continued to gaze into him, almost like he was reading a book.

Without warning, the brunet tilted his head and slowly leaned in, bringing his lips to Kyle's in a gentle, inquisitive way. He unearthed his hand from under the other's sweater, placed it delicately on Kyle's waist. The redhead, feeling the shift in mood, slid one hand from Stan's shoulder up to his neck. For a few, brief, fleeting moments, it was as if the two former friends had become one entity, breathing as one- quicker with the rising intensity, and slower as they cooled.

Kyle let a out a pleasant moan and Stan stilled. He came at Kyle with a hard, passionate kiss, pushing his tongue into the other's mouth. The redhead, instinctively and involuntarily bit down on the intrusion. The brunet flew away from Kyle with a startled groan, breathing heavily and angrily.

"Fine" he spat at Kyle, who stood leaning against the wall.

The brunet shook his head in disgust, seemingly at the redhead, but truthfully at himself. He stormed from the room and into the kitchen as Kyle slid down the wall and put his head in his hands. They both took several minutes in their separate rooms to regain their breath.

Kyle had never been so confused in his life. There were so many emotions rushing at him at once, he wasn't sure which one he should try and decipher first. Kyle could recall the exact same mix of emotions as the night Stan had attacked him on his own bed. The redhead waited for the wave of relief that should have been flooding his mind several moments ago. It didn't come. He should have been relieved, yet all he felt was a strange and out of place sense of… disappointment?

He rubbed at his neck, sore from what he was sure would be bruises by morning.

_Geez_, he thought. Stan really had a violent inclination for biting. The redhead curled and uncurled his fingers and toes, trying ignore the ache in his groin.

The brunet, meanwhile, was standing in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water slowly and clenching his jaw sporatically. What was it about Kyle that made him lose control? It just wasn't fair. Even after Stan had reversed the tables, the redhead was still in charge. Stan didn't want to get emotionally involved with Kyle. He wanted to be rid of the redhead and the treacherous feelings that ensued when he was around.

Yet, for how much Stan told himself that he wanted the redhead gone, a bubbling, intensely more powerful emotion that had begun to churn up within him, wanted Kyle to stay.

The brunet exhaled exhaustedly and refilled the glass. His insides were burning with mortification, and he inhaled silently before he stepped from the room.

In the dark, Kyle glanced up cautiously as Stan approached him. The brunet knelt down next to the redhead and handed him the glass of water. Kyle took it gratefully.

"Stay," the brunet commanded softly, and Kyle nodded his head as he handed the glass back. That feeling began to flare up again in the pit of Stan's stomach, and he turned away from the redhead, trying to vanquish the sensation. The brunet then swept through the house, locking up the doors with Kyle in tow.

The redhead followed his friend up the stairs without a word, changing into a pair of Stan's sweatpants for pajamas. Avoiding each other's gazes, they lay down together in Stan's bed. The silence was stifling; there was so much each wanted to say, yet neither was willing to speak. With a final defeated sigh, Kyle turned away from the brunet, leaving Stan to fall asleep to the image of Kyle's back.

Stan awoke to a gentle rain early the next morning. His body was warm and relaxed and there was a pleasant and clean aroma permeating his senses. He cracked open his blue eyes to find Kyle's wild red hair, intractable without the proper hair products, and his smooth, pale neck. Stan pressed his nose deeper against the other's nape and inhaled contentedly. He lay with eyes shut for several seconds imagining that Kyle was his, before exhaling with the letdown of reality.

The brunet sat up carefully, trying not to wake the other from his rest. The sight of Kyle sprawled out on his own bed gave the other teen a twisted sense of ownership. The redhead's legs were tangled in the sheets, and Stan imagined for a moment that they were unclothed and spread. The brunet was nearly overcome with the fantasy of pressing his naked hips to Kyle's. A thousand wicked thoughts flooded Stan's mind, and, like always, he swallowed them back with impressive containment.

Hopping from the bed gingerly, he threw on yesterday's shirt (after quickly sniffing it) and journeyed to the kitchen. He poured himself a generous bowl of cereal and, falling onto the living room couch, switched on the television with the remote. He flipped through the channels tiredly before settling on Terrance and Phillip. Why the hell not?

Upstairs, Kyle's eye fluttered open to find, to his horror, that he was twisted up in Stan's bed. The redhead froze for a second and quickly contemplated his options. He briefly considered escaping through the window, but decided against it after careful deliberation. As much as he liked to piss Stan off, it wasn't the wisest idea after last night's little charade. He sat up reluctantly and looked around. Where _was_ Stan?

Kyle untangled himself from the blankets and rose from the bed. He made his way to the door, avoiding the articles of clothing strewn across the floor. Some of them, he noticed, didn't even belong to Stan. Reaching down to pick up a piece of cloth with a familiar pattern in the corner, Kyle, realized that it was the skirt he had seen Bebe wear last Friday. The one he had convinced to buy because the cut flattered her hips.

The redhead suddenly felt sick and set down the skirt as gently as if it were a kitten. His breath caught in his throat and he rubbed his face with his hands. _Bebe_…

Kyle backtracked slowly to sit down on the bed. He stared down dejectedly at his lap, groaning when he realized he was wearing Stan's sweatpants. Why the _fuck_ was he wearing Stan's clothes? Why would he _ever_ agree to wearing Stan's clothes? Why did he always end up in this position? In a state of weakness, the redhead had allowed himself of taste of the forbidden fruit and was now left with tenfold the original trouble.

Feeling suffocated, Kyle arose dismally and ventured from the room. He met Mrs. Marsh, dressed in a purple jogging suit, at the top of the stairs. Her face was red and damp. She had obviously just come from a run.

"Oh Kyle! What a lovely surprise! I haven't seen you in ages! Stan's downstairs watching TV. You two really need to get together more often."

"Hehe," Kyle laughed weakly in return, avoiding the suggestion altogether. He glared half-heartedly at her receding back as she strode down the hall. _Where the hell were you last night? Do you have any idea what you could have prevented?_

Sharon disappeared into her room to take a shower as Kyle headed downstairs. Skipping breakfast, the redhead wandered into the living room cautiously. Stan was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, and his silver cell phone cradled between his hands as he texted away furiously.

Kyle cleared his throat softly to announce his arrival and the brunet froze instantly. Stan didn't look as he took up residence on the chair opposite the couch. The television was muted and the two sat in absolute silence, avoiding each other's gazes. Kyle inspected his fingernails and bit his bottom lip nervously as Stan fiddled with his cell phone, both of them extremely aware of each other's presence in the room. At random intervals, one of them would open their mouth to speak, only to find he had no idea how to breach the subject.

After a while of awkwardly waiting for the other to bring "it" up, Kyle finally gave up exhaustedly.

"I should leave." The redhead announced.

"Yea." The other muttered.

"I'm gonna go get my stuff."

Kyle jumped up from the chair and headed for Stan's room, the brunet in tow. He mindlessly changed out of Stan's pants and into his own as Stan watched from the doorway. Both were strangely crestfallen by the turn of events. Kyle pulled on his jacket and rushed for the door, intending to ignore the brunet. Stan, inhaling the other's scent as he passed by, reached out at the last second to grab the redhead's elbow.

"Don't…Don't go," Stan mumbled shyly. He glanced quickly at Kyle, then at the side wall. The redhead snapped his arm from the other's grip angrily.

"No," he huffed and turned to leave. Stan moved to grab the other again.

"I won't… I'm not gonna…" The brunet seemed unable to finish that sentence, so he sighed in frustration, and released Kyle's arm.

The redhead glared at Stan for a while, bouncing his knee rapidly as if trying to make a decision. At once he threw up his arms to fist his hands in his own hair.

"Ahhhh!" The redhead shouted in aggravation, shoving Stan away vehemently.

The brunet shoved back, holding Kyle against the wall, in a similar fashion to last night. The brunet smiled smugly, infuriating Kyle further. Suddenly and explosively, Kyle expelled all his rage into his fist, which shortly thereafter swung around to connect with Stan's jaw. The brunet tripped backwards and fell against the doorframe, Kyle fuming above him. Stan's vision was spotted for a moment as he sagged against the door and rubbed his jaw. There was the faint taste of copper in his mouth. The redhead glared down hatefully at the other.

Kyle hated-HATED- the way Stan could manipulate his emotions so easily. He should have been furious after last night, and yet, he would continually let himself fall submissive to Stan's manipulation. It really was unfair. No matter how much he tried to make himself avoid it, he was drawn to the other. Was he supposed to keep on fighting this forever?!

Apparently, Stan seemed to understand the exact thoughts running through his friend's head. He chuckled shortly- though not at Kyle- and leaned back against the doorframe. The redhead looked down fiercely. The _hell_ was Stan grinning about?

"Yea." Stan exhaled. "I- I know." Kyle's expression, at first shocked, morphed into one of exhausted defeat.

The two slid down opposite sides of the doorframe concurrently, their bent legs intertwined. The redhead exhaled slowly and glanced at Stan. Stan gazed back steadily. Kyle shook his head, rolling his eyes. Stan shrugged his shoulders and held his arms out tiredly. The message was clear: I surrender.

They stayed in this position for a while, quietly half-thinking. All that there had been to say before had been clearly stated in their brief spat. After a while, Kyle shifted and inhaled.

"I hate you," he announced candidly, wearily. Stan snorted with amusement.

"But…I can't let you go," the redhead whispered, half-praying the other wouldn't hear at all.

"I won't let you go," the brunet mumbled numbly. Two seconds after he said this, Stan realized it was true. There was no way he would ever be able to stay away from Kyle, no matter how much they said they hated each other. But he had always known this hadn't he?

* * *

Later, at the coffee table, the two consumed pizza silently. Kyle wasn't willing to leave, Stan wasn't willing to let him.

They had spent the remainder of the day laying around listlessly, sneaking curious glances at each other. They were trying to remember how to act like friends- but failing miserably. As if things would ever go back to the norm.

Around five, Randy and Sharon came downstairs to inform the boys that they would be leaving to go see a show and have dinner up in Northpark with the Stotches. Observing the pair's attire, Kyle approved of Sharon's blue dress- the cut was classy, but perhaps a slightly darker shade would have been more suitable. Randy, Kyle determined, looked completely unacceptable with his horrendously assembled bow tie and sports jacket combo. The patterns clashed completely. He sighed at the monotony of married, middle-aged life. How utterly depressing. Kyle had resolved to stay young forever.

"-so there's dinner in the freezer, you boys can heat up whatever you like. Keep the doors and windows locked, and don't let strangers into the house. Also-"

"Sharon, you're babying them. Leave them alone." Randy advised flatly.

"Hold on a minute Randy, I need to write them some emergency numbers." The father groaned slightly and checked his watch. Stan completely ignored the two, opting to text Token on his cell.

"-so remember that- Stan! Are you even listening?" Sharon demanded.

"Uh huh yea sure."

The older woman bristled and opened her mouth to yell, but was interrupted by Randy.

"Honey, we're gonna be late." He was pointing at his watch with a mildly annoyed expression.

"All right. Bye boys! Kyle keep an eye on Stan would you, sweety?"

Both boys exhaled a sigh of relief when the front door shut solidly behind the couple.

A sudden wave of heat passed over both boys when they realized they were alone in the house. Kyle tried (and failed) to keep down the electric excitement that had begun to bubble up within him. Stan shifted ever-so-slightly closer to the redhead, and eyed him out of the corner of his eye. The redhead looked partially flushed and troubled as he stared at the muted television before them.

The two ate dinner distractedly. Stan was having trouble tasting his food as he unintentionally focused his concentration onto the curve of Kyle's collarbone.

Around eight, the two changed into pajamas- Stan into sweatpants-no top- and Kyle into a loose white v-neck and his green boxers.

They relaxed on the couch watching (ignoring) television, hyperaware of the closeness of each other. Kyle was biting his lips anxiously, waiting for something to happen. They both knew it was coming. After some time, Kyle rose from the couch, only to feel Stan's arms wrap around his waist and pull him close.

The redhead was held firmly against the brunet's front, and Ky could feeling the other's semi-hardened arousal against his back. Fidgeting slightly for the sole purpose making the other more frustrated, Kyle allowed himself to be pulled back on the couch, the redhead sitting squarely on the brunet's lap, chest to back and legs on legs.

Stan lounged deeper into the couch and Kyle rested his head on the other's chest, sighing loudly. Picking up the remote, the redhead flipped the channel, settling on some obscure old black and white film that was playing at the moment.

After a while of watching the extraordinary helpless heroine repeatedly fall into danger, Kyle had visibly relaxed, allowing his legs to fall off either side of Stan's legs. With the redhead's legs spread on his lap, the brunet took the opportunity to draw his knees up between the redhead's spread ones, effectively locking Kyle into position on his lap. Kyle shifted slightly and whined softly in false disapproval at being kept in such a undignified position. Stan shushed him and began to stroke the inside of Ky's knee with his fingers. Tilting his head downwards, the brunet began to kiss the redhead's neck- gentle and featherlike at first, then harsher and passionate.

The redhead could feel himself slide into that mood again- the one he always felt when he imagined Stan controlling him, dominating him. The electric churning in the pit of his stomach began to twist and spark, spreading throughout his body.

The brunet began to trail his fingers further up Kyle's leg, and the redhead opened his legs wider to give Stan more access. The brunet's arousal was rapidly hardening against Ky's backside as he watched the redhead in aroused fascination. Stan brought his free hand to the redhead's other leg and began the same ministrations. The redhead's breaths quickened. The sensation of Stan's fingertips gently rubbing the skin of his inner thigh made Kyle so hot he could hardly breathe. Blood was rushing to his groin so fast it was almost painful. Stan continued to tease Kyle with his fingers, slipping them up under the redhead's boxers and bringing them so close to Kyle's arousal that the redhead gasped and arched his back for further contact. Yet every time, Stan pulled the fingers away, leaving the other flushed and panting.

The two continued this erotic dance of sorts for several minutes- Kyle's body swelling up and gasping as Stan dragged his hands up the other's legs, settling down as Stan pulled his fingers away. At last Kyle couldn't see straight.

"Stan… Stan…please…" he mewled out.

The brunet was pleased with this result, bringing one hand to Kyle's boxer, toying with the elastic hem. The redhead pleaded softly again for release, and Stan slid his fingers beneath the boxers, wrapping them around the base of Ky's erection. He squeezed once for good measure just to see Kyle shut his eyes and bite his lips again in helpless want.

The redhead's hips thrust forward as Stan began to pump him at a steady pace. Despite his best efforts to prevent them, Kyle gasped out small moans, widening his legs further, and thrusting up gently into Stan's fist. At one particularly wanton moan from the redhead, the brunet involuntarily thrust against Kyle's ass and began grinding intensely.

The smoldering heat inside Kyle quickly began to incline to razor sharp pleasure. His vision began to flash white sporadically as he felt the wetness of Stan's pre-cum leak through the seat of his boxers. The heat and pleasure rose to impossible heights within the redhead, until, at once, he surged forward and came harshly into Stan's hand.

"Staaan…" he mewled out, sending Stan over the edge as well. Kyle could feel the heat of Stan's cum against his ass.

The two sagged against each other for several minutes, breathing heavily, flushed, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The brunet retracted his hand from the redhead's boxers.

"Fuuuck…" Stan whispered out in a daze as he stared at Kyle's cum in his hand. The other turned away disgusted.

Kyle shuddered softly and sighed out:

"That was a bad idea."

"Yeeaa…" Stan agreed non-committedly, still observing his hand.

Kyle glanced at the television to see that the black and white film they had been watching earlier was just now coming to a close as the main actor exuberantly embraced the leading lady. They kissed in one of those old-fashion, close-mouthed kisses, and the screen faded to black.

Kyle meticulously untangled himself from Stan and stood up. The redhead arched back in a stretch, catching Stan's quizzical gaze behind him. The redhead straightened up self-consciously.

"What?"

Stan looked at him with an familiar expression, though Kyle couldn't quite place it.

"Nothing." Stan leaped up and grabbed Kyle's elbow, leading the other upstairs to his room.

"What?!" Kyle cried out, misinterpreting the action. "I just said it was a bad idea! What makes you think it will be any less stupid the second time around?"

Stan snorted as they entered his bedroom. He crossed the floor to the window just above his bed and flung it open. There was one patch of clear sky in an opening among the night clouds.

The cold chill immediately made Kyle's teeth chatter. They both sat down on the bed.

"What are you doing? You're gonna catch a cold. It's fucking freezing."

Stan pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around Kyle, holding the redhead close. The brunet's body warmth just barely sufficed.

Stan pointed to the dark pool of glittering stars.

"Which one is it?" he asked excitedly.

"What are you talking about?" Kyle mumbled as he began to doze off against the other boy's chest.

"The north star," Stan stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kyle's eyes instantly flew open and he searched the night sky. After carefully scrutiny, the redhead leaned back against the other with a sigh.

"The clouds must be covering it. I'll show it you another night."

Stan mmm'd in response, looking at Kyle. The brunet felt an unfamiliar sense of serenity as Kyle fell asleep on him. The clouds were beginning to close up now, and Stan watched until the last star was no longer visible. He did not shut the window until a gentle rain began upon the town.

Gently, he lay Kyle onto his bed and curled himself around his friend's back. The rain began to come down in a steady beat, and Stan threw one arm over Kyle as he fell into deep dreams.

* * *

The next morning, the two were bolting down cereal hungrily, while shooting each other secret grins.

Stan's mother came downstairs, as bright as sunshine in her fluffy yellow robe. Kyle didn't remember them coming home last night night. They must have returned late.

She grinned at the two stating, "It's so good to see you two get together again. Its been ages since you had a sleepover!"

Stan bit his lip and grinned into his spoon, trying not to laugh.

"Kyle, honey?" Sharon announced.

"Huh?" Kyle responded with a mouthful of cereal.

"You two have a three day weekend this week. Won't you come up with us to Stan's aunt's wedding? We'll be staying in a nice hotel in Denver. You boys can even have your own room."

Kyle, nearly choking on his spoon, glanced at Stan, who was shaking in silent laughter. Kyle had met the woman, a hair dresser, in sixth grade. _Oh Jesus, not her._

"Ummm," Kyle started, trying to fabricate the appropriate reason as to why he would be unable to come.

"Well, Randy and I have to drive back right after the wedding. But you boys could stay in Denver with her though. I'm sure she'd love to see you again," she added, coaxing him further.

"She was so fond of your hair, Kyle," Sharon muttered as she heated water for coffee.

Stan was dying. Fighting the urge to laugh was actually killing him. As soon as Sharon left the kitchen with her mug, Kyle chucked his milky spoon at the brunet, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Stan keeled over laughing.

There was absolutely no fucking way Kyle would go up with them to that wedding. He was just about voice this opinion when he realized one _very _persuasive fact.

Stan and he would a hotel room alone for one whole weekend.

He glanced over at Stan who was flipping him the middle finger and rubbing his forehead.

_Not bad_, Kyle thought wickedly. _Not bad at all._

* * *

TBC

Yes, I am aware that mid December Colorado would be blizzard-like, not just gentle rains. But realistically, do any of my readers really care? (Cause I don't) Ahahaha next chapter will be superjuicy. Reviews always encourage me to update faster though...


	10. Chapter 10

Yea! Another chapter! And only three more months until the end of the school year! So stoked. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry it took me so long to update...

* * *

First period Monday morning is only slightly better than the ninth ring of hell, all things considered. It was English with Garrison, who was equally as hung-over as his students. Kenny was doodling notes to Bebe and chewing on the white drawstring of his orange hoodie. Bebe was furiously texting Wendy about the weekend drama (Clyde slept with Heidi, Token had duked it out with Craig, whom, for some unknown reason, Tweek was refusing to talk to). She held the phone under her desk slyly, eyeing the teacher from her peripherals. Wendy was passing debate notes to Cartman, who, much to her chagrin, carelessly folded them into planes and launched them at Kyle. The redhead, nearly asleep, held his head in one hand, and with the other, tiredly raised it to flip Cartman the finger. Stan, two seats down, was passed out cold, leaning his head on the back wall right behind his desk. The standard Monday shit.

Kyle sighed and shook his head to eradicate the pleasant buzz of approaching sleep. Outside it was drab and wet, raining intermittently. He yawned again as Garrison continued to lecture the class.

"…the preliminary draft will be due next Tuesday, so you little shits better pull your act together and research…"

Kyle redirected his attention to the tinny music emanating from Token's expensive white headphones. Some hip-hop song. The boy was sporting his usual designer Armani (Token had exquisite taste, Kyle decided), as well as a swollen lip and a cut over the bridge of his nose. In the front of the room, Craig's face displayed an impressive shiner, and his knuckles were scabbed and purple. Kyle shifted in his plastic blue seat to glance at Tweek, who was sitting quietly at the desk in the corner, staring hopelessly at his untied shoelaces. And holy mother of god, he wasn't drinking coffee. _What in the hell had happened?_

Before Kyle could speculate further, the bell rang, informing the students of blissful freedom. He packed his things into his bag and walked back to Stan, who side stepped the redhead and passed him without a word. Kyle watched in bewilderment as the brunet left the room. The redhead groaned softly with a sinking feeling in his stomach, and turned to approach Tweek.

"Hey man. How's it going?" He asked lightly.

Tweek's impossibly thin form was arched over his backpack as he stowed his notebook away. He glanced at Kyle and offered a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Fine," the blond answered timidly.

His vivid blue eyes darted out to watch Craig converse pleasantly with Kevin, and came back dejectedly to his shoelaces, and at once Kyle understood. _God_, did Kyle understand that feeling.

"Dude, I hear the teacher's lounge has like, fucking bomb coffee. Lets go grab some," the redhead suggested, and Tweek's eye brightened a tinge.

"Fuck yes. I haven't had a cup since yesterday. Haven't been this clean since I was five-Jesus Christ!"

Nearly one whole, unbroken sentence. That kid needed his fix like now. The two embarked down the hall. They crept in and out of the lounge undetected- either they were ridiculously stealthy, or every teacher in there just didn't give a fuck about two unauthorized students in the private teacher's lobby, which was the more likely case.

Oddly enough, Kyle felt incredibly comfortable hanging with Tweek. The two were basically in the same position romantically, and the redhead was just fine muddling in misery with his blond comrade. Approaching their group leisurely, Kyle carefully kept his eyes off Stan. He could never be sure with the brunet. What could just be moodiness could just as easily be another mini war waiting to erupt. That was the way their relationship worked- two steps forwards, one step back, and so on and so forth. Plus there was also the subject of their interesting weekend endeavors that had yet to be brought up. Kyle kept himself cool, composed, and observant. The redhead wasn't worried. It wasn't as if that night could be taken back- eventually it would come to surface when Stan was ready. Kyle did though, keep an eye out to see how Stan was reacting to it all.

The group was arranged into a circle of sorts- Clyde, followed by Token, Stan, Craig, Kenny, Cartman, Kyle then Tweek- with all conversation directed towards the middle. The hot subject at the moment was Clyde's getting laid at the party. The boy dictated the event with lurid vocabulary and a selection of suggestive hand motions.

The redhead slid into the conversation with ease, while Tweek downed half his cup in one swallow. He released a small, breathy moan in delight. Craig, standing with Stan opposite Kyle and Tweek, looked extremely flustered for several seconds, before clearing his throat and re-engaging himself into Clyde's story.

Stan glanced shortly at Kyle, who gazed back steadily while taking even sips of java. The brunet at once broke through the circle and repositioned himself against the yellow lockers next to Kyle. He reached over to grab the cup, but the redhead pulled it from his reach slyly. Stan playfully nudged Kyle's leg with his own, and let it rest there, unnoticeable to all else in the group. Kyle smiled into his coffee.

The warning bell rang, informing students they had ten minutes to get to class. The group reluctantly split and dispersed. Kyle pushed himself from the lockers and made a motion to leave, but was blocked by Stan standing directly in front of him. The redhead looked up.

"Hey you're still coming this weekend, right? To the wedding?" The brunet said almost off handedly, trying to avoid the deeper question that was most definitely implied.

Kyle raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip in apparent thought, before giving the other his reply.

"Yea, I'm down."

Stan gave a toothy grin, displaying rows of pearly whites.

"Cool."

On that note, the brunet took off reluctantly for math.

* * *

Lubricated? Or ribbed? But that was ribbed for _her_ pleasure. Did that mean it wouldn't work for guys? Stan was standing contemplatively in front of a wall adorned with hundreds of colored packages of condoms. He had ditched fifth and sixth and driven all the way up to Cherry Creek to avoid being recognized in this shabby sex shop. Around him, bathed in red light was every sex gadget he would probably every lay eyes on in his life. He wasn't even sure how a few worked, though he was sure he could imagine.

He reached out to the wall a grabbed a package at random. Maybe grape flavored…

A scantily clad girl with cherry-red hair and a rose tattoo on her left breast approached him from behind the counter.

"Hey hon. Ya lookin' for something special?" She asked kindly through a huge wad of pink gum. "We got anything you're lookin' for, I guarantee it," she promised.

"Um yea thanks," Stan replied awkwardly. "I'm looking for something for my…boyfriend," his pitch heightened on that last word, as if it was a question. The brunet's mind plummeted into chaos. _Holy shit_, he thought. _Please don't let me be seen in here! I'm not gay! What am I doing?!_

Fortunately, the saleswoman seemed to sense his dilemma.

"Sure thing hon," she replied nonchalantly. She selected two packages from the wall, chewing her gum loudly. The boxes were differing shades of turquoise.

"This is what you're lookin' for," she advised, tapping on the boxes with long red nails. Stan looked curiously at the two boxes. He could feel the heat rise in his face as the lady grabbed a clear magenta bottle from behind the counter and shoved it into his arms.

"This will do the trick. I guarantee it." She winked, before noticing the teen's uneasiness.

"Hon, maybe you should take this too," pulling a book from the shelf. Stan peered at it wearily. It depicted the silhouettes of two men embraced in- _ohmygodholyshit_. Stan looked away and rubbed his arm self-consciously.

"Yea. Sure. Whatever." God, this was so fucking stupid. He could have bought all this in the South Park drug store. Its not like anyone would care- they would think he was buying it for a adventurous weekend with his girlfriend. And as for the book- well that's what the internet is for. Stan had never been so mortified in his life.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to him. Had Kyle done this before? With another guy? Or worse, with another guy who actually knew what he was doing? For the first time in his life, Stan had performance anxiety. Shit, what if he wasn't as good as this other man? With girls it was so easy: kiss here, stroke there, push harder when she moans like that…

Stan gulped down a huge breath as the cashier chimed. He told himself to calm down. For all he knew, Kyle was a virgin. Let's not over think this now.

The woman handed Stan his purchases in a pink plastic bag, giving him a wink, and a flirty, "have fun, hon." The brunet all but sprinted to his truck and threw the bag onto the passenger seat. He revved the vehicle and tore out of the parking lot.

Once on the highway back to town, Stan started thinking about having sex. With a guy. He didn't know much except for the bare basics of what goes where. And judging from previous encounters, Stan had a pretty accurate idea of who would giving and who would be taking. Was there much more than that?

He had never discussed this sort of thing with Ky. It was as if talking about it would somehow make this whole wanton nightmare a reality. Without words, there was no way to prove anything had occurred. For all he knew, it could be in his head.

Stan glanced over at the pink bag. He was simultaneously burning with humiliation and curiosity.

Arriving at home, Stan stuffed the plastic bag into his backpack and entered the house. No one was home, as usual. The brunet released a small sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to face anyone personally after his little adventure. Rocketing up the stairs, Stan burst through his door and shook the pink bag out of his backpack and onto his bed.

After staring at it for some time in intense inner conflict, Stan huffed angrily, grabbed it, and threw it under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. For now.

* * *

Tuesday mornings are almost as horrendous as Mondays. Even worse if you really think about it. Mondays start slow, gradually worsen around noon, but after lunch ease up to the point where one can just coast along until that final bell. Everyone is still coming down from the weekend. Hell, you've got until Tuesday night to start studying for that exam on Wednesday. But Tuesdays everyone is just throw in head first off the deep end- no slow awakening from the weekend vacation. In short: Mondays are the crash. Tuesdays are the withdrawal.

This was Kyle's personal opinion, as he yawned like a lion, and rested his head on the lab table.

"Broflovski! Wake up the fuck up, man! Hold the test tube while I pour this stuff in," yelled Clyde irritably.

"Fuck off," Kyle muttered tiredly.

The redhead held the tube as Clyde delivered a clear substance into it. He looked down at his textbook.

"Ok now we add the acid to the solution- wait…oh fuck did I just pour the water or the acid into that tube?!"

Clyde looked around the table wildly, picking up the glass vials and reading the labels. In his frenzy, three tubes were knocked to the floor, splattering over Clyde's left forearm and hand as he attempted to catch them.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed in agony. "This shit burns!"

Hearing Clyde's screams, the teacher came hurdling over the lab benches to the boy's side. The class looked on as the teacher dragged the boy into the back room, and within second the rushing sound of the emergency shower was heard. Kyle, watching in an tired daze, stood up, fetched the bathroom pass, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Stan was pretending to learn about American history, when he caught, out of the corner of his eye and through the door window, his favorite redhead striding down the hall towards the bathroom. The brunet jumped up to grab the hall pass.

"Hey can I…?" Stan asked, motioning to the door with the pass in his arm.

The teacher gazed at him from over her purple rimmed glasses and sighed wearily.

"Can't you wait half an hour for class to be over?"

"Uh I don't know," the brunet replied cheekily. "Can you pay for the dry cleaning if I piss my pants?"

A few snickers were heard around the room.

"Just go," she replied disgustedly, waving her hand at him in a shooing motion. Stan gave the teacher a winning smile and trotted through the door.

* * *

Kyle washed his hands thoroughly, and was drying them with paper, when he was enveloped from behind by strong arms and a familiar scent.

"Hey buddy," Stan chuckled teasingly as he squeezed the redhead tighter.

Kyle attempted to elbow him off, and Stan relinquished his hold with a grin.

"Dude so the plans are as follows," announced the brunet. "We're all leaving Thursday night for Denver, but me and you-"

"You and I," Kyle corrected playfully.

Stan gave him a long, irritated look.

"You're fucking adorable man. Really. So me and you can drive ourselves up in a separate car cause we'll be staying extra time-"

As Stan was talking, Kyle gently backed the brunet up against the wall. When Stan finished, Kyle replied.

"Kay. Sounds good. I've already talked to my mom and she says I can go as long as we-" as Kyle continued, his hands reached down to delicately toy with the buckle of Stan's belt. The redhead looked off the side as he talked, as if he didn't know what he was doing.

The soft pressure of Kyle's fingers near his groin began to stir Stan's blood. Every so often, Kyle's fingers would very lightly stroke the crotch of Stan's jeans, and the brunet's head would swim in the faintest tinges of ecstasy. The brunet was having trouble catching the other's words.

"-and we'll be having our own room, right?" Kyle looked up at Stan with emerald bedroom eyes.

"Uh huh," Stan murmured and reached out to grab Kyle closer. The other flitted from his grasp with a grin, and backed away. The redhead grabbed the pass from the sink and began for the door.

"You're such a fucking tease Ky," Stan stated with an annoyed expression.

The other glanced back with a pleased grin and spun through the door just as a freshman entered.

The brunet rubbed his face with his hands, trying to cool the heat in his groin. He leaned against the wall, flipping through his cell texts while listening to the scrawny freshman take a piss. A sudden, fleeting image of the novel he had bought yesterday seemed to draw his immediate attention and desire.

* * *

"-and the bitch was totally crossfaded. I mean, so far gone she couldn't unlock the car. Fucking classic, I swear to god," Cartman remarked as he shoved another Chips Ahoy cookie into his mouth. Bits of chocolate spewed from his lips as he spoke.

He, Kenny, and Stan were seated on the icy metal bleachers beside the track field. Kenny shivered lightly in his thin coat and sucked hard on a cigarette. He tapped the ashes off and exhaled the smoke slowly before handing it off to Stan, who was waiting for it anxiously. The sky was nearly black with storm clouds and there was an unpleasant wind-chill. The three were watching the track team sprint about the field, waiting lazily for the practice to finish. At last the team congregated around the coach, then dispersed to the locker rooms. Kyle broke off from the crowd and headed towards his friends. He was carrying a long, white pole-vaulting pole and his sports bag over one shoulder, and clad in a grey South Park High sweatshirt and the customary tiny track shorts.

Stan swallowed hard as the redhead jogged up to meet them. The redhead's face and neck were flushed crimson, slicked with sweat, and the shorts revealed slender, muscular legs. Still a few feet away, Kyle beamed and more or less semi-skipped the rest of the way, in that quirky little manner of his. He was slightly out of breath, and a few locks of his tediously styled hair rested rebelliously out of place.

Kyle flung the bag onto the grass, flopped gracefully onto the bleachers, and began untying his shoelaces. As Kenny and Cartman bickered irritably in the background, Stan grinded out the last of the cigarette on the silver metal, and gazed amused at the other teen.

"Hey man. Nice shorts," he remarked smugly.

"You love them," Kyle quipped back in a playful voice.

He pulled off his sweatshirt, then jersey, and slipped on a purple t-shirt with a strange graphic in its place. The kid looked ridiculously hipster, Stan decided, licking his dry lips at the sight of Kyle's bare, lithe torso. The redhead kicked off the flimsy golden shorts and pulled on a pair of disgustingly expensive designer jeans over his grey boxer briefs. Stan did, however, find Kyle's shamelessness of nudity quite comical, as he looked over at three wide-eyed freshman girls, who giggled as they watched the redhead openly change. Stan turned back for a moment- Kenny and Cartman's fighting was becoming increasingly louder.

Finally, Kyle stood up, basking in all his metro(homo?)sexual glory. Stan gave the redhead a once over, agreeing reluctantly, that it was a good look on the other. Kyle did have great taste, the brunet had to admit. In that artsy, douche bag, European way.

Kenny tossed Kyle a bottle of water, which hit the distracted redhead in the shoulder. Cartman snickered. Kyle uncapped the bottle and drank vigorously. Stan watched the muscles in his throat move fluidly as he swallowed, The brunet had the strangest desire to reach out and feel the movement of Ky's neck under his fingers.

Before Stan could commit any such foolish action, Kenny decked Cartman squarely across the jaw, indicating that it was time to start heading home. Stan wiggled his way in between the two, not willing to hold anyone back this afternoon, and the four started for the neighborhood.

* * *

"So… you're gonna make him buy you dinner before he fucks you, right?"

Kyle turned to look at Kenny out of the corner of his eye. It was Wednesday night, and Ky was packing up his suitcase for Thursday. Stan was supposed to stop by in a little. Kyle methodically folded up a pair of dark jeans and placed them neatly into the case.

"Are you just gonna avoid this situation until Stan suddenly whips it out in the bedroom? Because that would be pretty funny actually."

Kyle cleared his throat in annoyance.

"No, no. You're right. Just keep your head in the sand as long as possible. That's definitely the best solution," Kenny continued.

"Mmm," Kyle finally replied.

"You're fucking stubborn, you know? Such a tight ass. I'll bet Stan will love it."

"Shut up, Kenny," Kyle replied.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help. We're buddies, man!"

"You're not concerned, Kenny!" Kyle shouted accusingly. "You're trying to stir up drama for your own sick entertainment! That's all you're interested in!"

Kenny looked stunned, then hurt, and Kyle felt a little guilty.

The redhead cleared his throat and resumed packing. After several moments of thick silence, he muttered a grudging apology.

"You know these are the questions that are gonna come up while you're away with Stan. I'm just asking you ahead of time, so you'll be ready. I mean, fuck you man. You think its fun for me to hang with you two when you guys don't fucking talk? It's like hanging with two brick walls, except that brick walls don't fucking launch themselves across the room to attack each other. I'm trying to keep you from fucking up, see? You have to think this through. What do you need?"

Kyle stared at the ground intently. He sighed.

"I need to know that Stan isn't just gonna throw me aside after he gets what he wants."

Kenny sighed and nodded wordlessly. Abruptly, the blonde's cell vibrated in his pocket, and he excitedly fumbled to retrieve it. Kyle peeked at the sender- Bebe. Kenny sat on Kyle's bed with his knees drawn up as he gleefully messaged the other girl. Kyle had noticed this behavior for some time now- it had started around December and had increased after Stan and Bebe's break up.

"So… Bebe, huh? She's pretty," Kyle offered offhandedly.

"She's fucking beautiful," Kenny whispered out as he sent the message. Both of Kyle's eyebrows raised- he had never heard Kenny talk about a girl so passionately (without the preceding event of sex, of course).

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and Ike sprinted to it with all the vivacity of a twelve year old boy looking to cause trouble for his older brother. He threw the door open.

"Hiya Stan!" He remarked loudly. "Kyle's upstairs with Kenny."

Upstairs, the two had heard the announcement. Kenny grinned and threw his arm around Kyle, pulling him close.

"What are you doing," Kyle asked, exasperated, as he tried to squirm from the other's hold.

"We're performing a social experiment."

Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Kenny. No."

The blonde responded by swiveling his head down to snuggle against Kyle's neck. The redhead gasped and squirmed just as the door opened, revealing Stan in the doorway, with a plethora of emotions gathered on his face. Confusion, Shock, Anger, Rage, in that order.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Stan asked deathly quiet, his voice a little shaky.

_Well shit_, ran through Kyle's mind. His second thought was, _Maybe I should milk this? Naw, he looks pissed._

Kenny responded by lifting his head from Kyle's neck, with a casual, "Oh. You know."

Kyle glared daggers at the blonde.

"He's being an idiot." Kyle gave Kenny a look of sarcastic appreciation, and the blonde raised his eyebrows and grinned widely in response. Stan relaxed.

"Well, I think it's time to go," Kenny announced as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Yes, please," Kyle stated. Kenny chuckled and grasped Stan's shoulder on his way out of the room.

"Take care of the little princess," the blond advised with a grin.

Stan smiled with teasingly upturned eyebrow, but Kenny tightened his grip on the brunet's shoulder, and Stan suddenly realized Kenny's underlying seriousness. The blond headed down, leaving Stan still for a few moments.

The soft humming intro of Simon and Garfunkle's A Poem On the Underground Wall from Kyle's record player filled the room.

Stan faced Kyle, who was staring at his feet as he pulled out stands of the carpet with his foot. The redhead glanced up. Stan stood awkwardly for a few seconds, then plopped down on the computer chair.

"So… We're leaving tomorrow at 6:15. My parents are leaving a little earlier to check in. It'll be like a two hour drive, if we hit no traffic… or snow."

"Sweet. When's the wedding?" Kyle asked, leaning back on his hands. He was more comfortable now that one of them had started talking.

"Friday night."

"Who has a wedding on a weekday? When will she have time to get ready and actually look decent? That's so stupid."

"That would be the only thing you worry about, Ky."

The redhead shrugged noncommittally.

"Well let me tell you right now, I'm not getting within 50 feet of that woman. You wanna sit in the front row at the alter, you can suck it, cause I won't sit with you."

Stan snickered loudly, which developed into a laugh that he attempted to cover with a cough. Kyle was half annoyed with Stan's laughing, and half pleased with himself at being able to cause it.

"It was your fault anyway. If you hadn't started it, I wouldn't be so defensive right now. Your aunt's out of her mind."

Stan stopped laughing long enough to gasp out, "Your still mad at me over that? What is this, like a pride thing?"

"No, its more of like a fuck you thing, Stan," Kyle replied evenly, though his eyes were laughing.

The brunet laughed harder. He was tearing up.

"Well, I have nothing more to say to you, Stan," the redhead stated in feigned annoyance as he headed to the bathroom to fill a glass with water. The brunet calmed at the sound of the water taps.

Kyle came back, drinking from his glass. He approached the computer chair and Stan's attention was immediately drawn to the way Kyle's Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed. His neck looked soft and smooth. The redhead stopped in front of Stan, offering the water glass. The brunet shook his head. He gently pulled Kyle down onto his knee, much like the way a child sits on Santa's lap at the mall.

The redhead raised one eyebrow in a gesture of mock irritation, and Stan smiled up at him. They were relaxed. Stan snickered again, and Kyle punched his shoulder.

"I swear I will cut your dick off if your aunt gets near my hair. I am so fucking serious."

Stan chuckled into the redhead's shoulder. The brunet was warm, and his laughs vibrated against Kyle's skin. Kyle relaxed in Stan's grip. It felt nice again to be close to him like this. He raised the glass to his lips again.

Stan shifted and gently slid one hand around to the front of Kyle's neck. The redhead stilled for a moment, mid-swallow, before continuing. Stan watched the muscle movement softly, fascinated. His warm hand was placed lovingly but solidly on Ky's neck, feeling the movements, the pulse, the softness and warmth. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the redhead's shoulder. His thumb affectionately caressed the skin of Kyle's neck, feeling the pulse quicken beneath it.

Kyle was entranced by the intimacy of Stan's behavior. It felt good. Like they were supposed to have been acting like this all along. Stan's hand slid up from the other's neck to behind his ear. He lifted his head and leaned up towards Kyle's lips. There was a brief hesitation, their lips touching barely, neither breathing, before Kyle pressed downwards, meeting their lips softly. The redhead adjusted to place one hand behind the brunet' head for leverage. Stan took Kyle's lower lip between his own, and they kissed lightly, with restrained passion.

Then, from downstairs, came Ike's voice screaming:

"KYYYYLLLE! Your supposed to make me diiinnneeer!" The boy whined out petulantly.

The redhead swallowed back a gasp and removed himself from Stan's grip with a frustrated sigh. The brunet chuckled.

"You should go- unless you want to eat with us?" Kyle questioned with guarded hope.

"Yea, sure." Stan agreed, trying to catch the other's lips again. The redhead laughed and pushed the brunet away.

Dinner was unbearable. Not the food-they ate pasta marinara, quite tasty. It was the longing looks, teasing feet games under the table, and the burdensome need to keep it all under control in front of Ike, that made dinner absolutely insufferable for Stan and Kyle. Kyle sent Ike off to bed while Stan cleaned the dishes.

At last they were alone in the dark living room. Stan slung his arms around Kyle's waist and dragged him into a fervent kiss. Kyle tried to extricate himself from Stan's grip, breathlessly, between kisses.

"We…can't. We'll have… time for… all this tomorrow…night." It was a truly horrible feeling to have to stop this, Kyle thought.

Stan finally concurred. With the door open, ready for Stan to leave, the brunet pressed Kyle back against it and initiated a kiss that left the redhead gasping for breath and foggy minded. Stan chuckled and bounded away from the house. Dazed, Kyle shut the door quietly behind.

* * *

Stan locked the door behind him as he entered his room. Frantically, he yanked off his jeans and fell face down onto his bed, his arousal pressed uncomfortably against the blankets. Slowly, he grinded down against the mattress, imagining Kyle's naked form, legs splayed, and breathlessly helpless beneath him. The redhead gasped shortly as Stan moved against his naked hips, wrapping his legs around the brunet's waist for a broader sensation. Stan's hand came down to fist his own arousal, and suddenly, he was trusting hard and deep inside Kyle's body.

* * *

Kyle spread his legs wider, tangling them in the sheets, as he imagined Stan's body looming above him. He gave a low moan, thrusting up into his fist, as he imagined Stan fucking him into oblivion. The redhead fantasized about the roughness and fullness of Stan's penetrating thrusts. They were so deep Kyle could hardly breathe. Stan kept him pinned down between intense thrusts, and the redhead reveled in the wanton sensation of submission. It was strangely and insanely arousing to submit to Stan. The brunet held Kyle's wrists harshly, whispering vulgar commands into the redhead's ears.

* * *

"Beg for me."

At those words, Kyle grabbed Stan's shoulders and arched back as he could feel his climax approaching. The redhead gasped and mewled out the brunet's name in a multitude of breathy, pleading manners. The brunet relished the twisted notion of complete domination of his best friend. Stan imagined maliciously slowly his thrusts, and Kyle begging desperately beneath him to move harder, faster, deeper. The redhead's face was flushed and damp, his neck thrown back, lips parted in ecstasy, and his hips grinding back on Stan's frantically.

* * *

Kyle was impossibly hot, tangled up in his sheets, and pumping his arousal desperately as Stan continued to fuck him. At last the brunet reached down to touch Kyle, and white bursts clouded the redhead's vision. He was suspended in an eruption of sharp pleasure, his muscled tensed and mouth open.

* * *

Stan gave a few particularly hard thrusts, from which Kyle groaned wantonly, and came hard and long into his hand. He breathed harshly for a few moments, settling on his side and wiping his hands onto his sheets. He sighed, enjoying the pleasant come down, and gazed out the window. After a shower and another jerking session, Stan fell into his bed to meet a dreamful sleep.

* * *

Kyle carefully washed his hands and changed his sheets. His insides were bubbling with the possibilities of tomorrow night. After several hours of tossing, the redhead at last fell asleep to the notion of Stan's car, rocking gently as it drove the two to Denver, the gentle snows, and Stan's warm body at his side.

* * *

TBC

So clichéd- end the chapter with a smut scene, but whatever.

Hey, so I really don't usually advertise my own personal likes in my stories because I feel like it compromises the characters, but to my readers who have never heard Simon & Garfunkle's A Poem On the Underground Wall, you should go listen. The live 1967 version, if you can find it. I bought the record when I was like thirteen, and I swear this song will change your life. Its one of the most fucking gorgeous things ever written. Plus I thought it matched the mood for the scene.

Read and Review? Please?


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everybody! Hope you are all having an amazing summer!

Fellow graduated seniors: Jesus motherfucking Christ we made it! Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna miss everybody, but high school can suck my fat one. Fuck drama.

Thanks everyone who reviewed my last chapter! Next time I'll try and update a little faster.

(Beginning- what the hell? why won't this site let me make page breaks?)

"Shit! Ooww! Cocksucking motherfucker!" Stan swore as he cradled his right foot in both hands, balancing unsteadily on his other foot.

The brunet inhaled deeply through his teeth and tentatively placed his right foot back on the ground. He grabbed the suitcase that had fallen onto his toe and threw it violently on to the backseat of his black truck. Slamming the car door shut, Stan limped back up to the doorstep of his house. He stepped into his shoes and locked the front door behind him.

The brunet then hoisted himself into the car and sat for several minutes, fiddling nervously with his keys. After a slow inhale and exhale, Stan licked his lips and turned on the engine. Backing into the street much slower than usual, the brunet tried to calm his excited nerves. His thumbs drummed out frantic rhythms on the steering wheel as he waited at the intersection that would take him towards Kyle's neighborhood.

The sky was gray and the wind was blustery with tiny particles of ice, and Stan flipped on the windshield wipers. He groaned at the thought of driving to Denver in this weather. He should have left earlier like his parents.

The drive to Kyle's seemed longer than normal, Stan thought as he pulled across the empty intersection. There weren't many other cars out on the roads right now. The brunet exhaled another nervous breath. The notion of driving all the way to Denver alone with Kyle was either immensely appealing or horribly dreadful, and Stan couldn't decide which.

The brunet navigated slowly through Kyle's neighborhood before pulling reluctantly up to the driveway. He contemplated dragging his ass out of the car and into the cold to help Kyle with his bags, like a gentleman, but ultimately decided to beep the horn twice and wait for the redhead to come out of the house.

The redhead emerged from the house looking clean and poised and immaculate. Stan swallowed hard and unlocked the passenger door. The brunet scoffed incredulously as Kyle delicately set his fancy leather suitcase in the back of the car and slid smoothly onto the passenger seat. The redhead shut the door quickly to keep in the heat and hugged his knees up to his chest for immediate warmth.

Kyle tilted his head down so that his temple rested against his knee and he was facing Stan.

"Hey," the redhead breathed out softly with a quick, childish smile. Stan's chest fluttered and he cleared his throat nonchalantly.

"Are you sure it's safe to drive to Denver in this weather?" Kyle cautiously asked.

"We're fine," Stan replied shortly, not trusting his voice at the moment for some reason.

"If you say."

The sky started to darken, but the roads remained mostly clear as the wind blew small tufts of ice across the landscape. The two started out with hesitant small talk, then began to converse normally as they settled in. Stan was having Kyle teach him dirty phrases in French by the time they made it onto the highway that led out of the county.

"Alright, alright," Stan managed through tears of laughter, "how about ummm… 'She's a good fuck.'"

"Elle baise bien…or elle est une sacrée baiseuse*, depending on what exactly you want to say," Kyle responded with a grin and a snicker.

Stan dissolved into another peal of laughter.

A little while after that Stan was bitching about the status of his and Bebe's demolished relationship.

"I mean, I warned her before we got together that I didn't want a relationship. Fuck, and I knew she would get all emotional and attached after we slept together, but I told her ahead of time! Jesus fucking Christ! And then, you know, I felt bad and all, so we dated, but I was bored as fuck and-"

"You're a real douche, Stan," Kyle quietly cut him off.

"Come on, dude," Stan reasoned. "Haven't you ever been in this situation?" He teased.

"Yup." Kyle admitted softly.

Stan looked taken back and surprised.

"Well, what happened with her?"

Kyle shook his head, Stan elbowed him teasingly.

"Come on, man just tell me," the brunet continued to coax.

The redhead sighed and looked out the window.

"It wasn't with… not really with…" Kyle tried, but couldn't force the words out. He kept shaking his head. It was like there was something stuck in his throat that choked the words down.

A jolt went through Stan's body when he realized what Kyle was trying to say.

"It was with a guy?" Stan asked, deathly quiet, shocked. He swallowed back sudden, intense jealously and tried to keep his breathing steady.

Kyle nodded timidly, obviously waiting for a more explosive reaction from the other.

"Oh. Wh-What happened?" Stan asked.

Kyle looked at the brunet incredulously, but licked his lips nervously and told him.

"Well," the redhead started quietly, "I went to a boarding school, so, you know, I lived with everyone there, and there was this guy-" Kyle's words started speeding up as he talked.

"Slow down," Stan instructed.

"Oh. Um Sorry. So there was this guy-Christophe- and he lived on the same dorm floor as me. Um he was older than me- two years, and he was tutoring me in French, cause you know, and then one time he was over, and, ok well that part's not really important, but we kinda had a thing and we hooked up a few times. And then there was a dorm party this one night, and I got fucked up and he told me he didn't want a relationship, but I was like half wasted and didn't care and then we had sex." Kyle gasped the last part out. His face was flushed and he kept his eyes on his knees while he talked.

"You had sex…with him," Stan repeated awkwardly. "Um. Ok."

"…so anyway he got what he wanted, then took after some kid in his fencing club- Garret? Gregory? Yea, Gregory." Kyle finished dismally.

Stan looked contemplative as he mulled over all this new information in his head.

"Wow. That…sucks," he offered, distracted.

"Yea. Getting used generally does- ask any of your ex-flings. They'd know all about it," Kyle replied snidely.

For the first time in a long time, traces of true guilt began to descend upon Stan. He had never really seen this situation from the other side…

Silence flooded the car and Kyle turned his head to the other side and began to nod off.

Around nine it started flurrying, and about 9:30 the two had pulled out the glove box map to argue

about their location. The car slowed to little more than a crawl as the weather worsened.

"Do you even know where we are?" Kyle screamed.

"Shut up," Stan growled and pointed to a route on the map. "We're right fucking here."

"Oh god you're an idiot. We can't be on the 87. We would have to taken highway 34 to get there!"

"We already fucking went on the 34!"

"No we didn't Stan!" Kyle accused. Their arguing began to rise in intensity.

"How the fuck would you know? You've been prancing your ass around Europe. You've only been back here like three months!"

"I was gone less than a year Stan! I still know how to get around Colorado- I haven't changed that much!"

"Oh really? Because you came back after nine months and now you frolic around like you're hot shit, you think your so goddamn perfect Brovlovski! Your fucking stupid designer clothes and your hair and everybody thinks your so fucking adorable but I hate you, you FUCKING FAGGOT!" The second the words left his mouth, Stan knew he would sorely regret them.

Kyle looked heartbroken, then immediately furious.

"And you haven't changed at all," The redhead began quietly. "You're scared as fuck, and your in denial. You fucking douche, I know the reason you get bored with chicks so easily," Kyle's face held a smug grin, and he unbuckled his seatbelt to get closer to the other as he drove.

"It's cause they're not satisfying, are they?" The redhead teased maliciously. He leaned closer to Stan's ear. "You have a new one every month because you have an itch they can't scratch, huh?"

Stan gave Kyle the absolutely most murderous glare the redhead had ever seen in his life. The brunet's knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel, and his arms were shaking in rage. If Kyle had been smarter, he would have known to shut up. But he wasn't. Kyle was relishing the upper hand.

"So," the redhead asked innocently, "do you even think about them when you're with them? Who do you think about, Stan? I really, really wanna know. Are you a fucking faggot like me?"

Stan launched himself at Kyle, tearing his hands from the wheel. The car swerved left, then right, then plunged anticlimactically into a snowdrift on the side of the road. Neither teen noticed. They were both

busy grappling furiously across the driver and passenger seat. Stan managed to subdue Kyle beneath him and wrap his hands around his neck, and the redhead had thrown a few good punches that left Stan with a bloody nose, and both had bruised jaws.

"I fucking RESENT you," Stan screamed down at the redhead. "I HATE you for making me feel like this about another guy! I'm not a fucking fag!"

Kyle gasped for air as Stan released his grip a little.

"Yea well," the redhead began between breaths, "join the club, cause I hate myself for falling for a guy that I know is gonna use me and then toss me aside as soon as his itch is scratched."

Stan stared down at the other with an unreadable expression, and slowly unwrapped his fingers from Kyle's throat. He winced at the red hand marks left on the other's neck. They would probably bruise. Stan and Kyle both sat back up in the driver and passenger seat respectively, breathing heavily. They glanced around at their surroundings.

"We're on the side of the road," Stan remarked, confusion evident in his voice.

He attempted to maneuver the car back onto the highway, but the snow beneath the back tires couldn't hold the car up. The engine revved loudly, but the car went no where.

Stan groaned and dropped his head to the wheel.

"Get out," he told Kyle. "Help me push the car."

Kyle frowned, then sighed, and jumped out into the ice.

The two worked for a good twenty minutes- pushing, attempting to drive, pushing. By the time they got back on the road it was almost 11:00. They were breathing heavy from exertion and shivering from the temperature.

"There's no way we can make it even close to Denver in this weather," Kyle announced tiredly.

"I know," Stan admitted. "Let's look for a motel or something."

About forty five minutes later, the two came across a lone sign for a bed and breakfast a little further up the road. It was a quaint looking house with rose gardens and white shutters.

"This is mad sketchy. We're gonna get tortured and killed," Stan voiced his opinion.

Kyle huffed, "Shut up. We don't even know if there's vacancy."

An elderly lady answered the door. She had gray hair tied back in a bun and lifted her spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose to take a better look at her customers.

"Hi there. Um, I'm Stan, this is Kyle," Stan motioned to the redhead, "and we were supposed to meet up with my family in Denver. But we can't really get there tonight, so do you have a vacancy?" Stan finished awkwardly.

The woman sniffed lightly and peered at the duo for a few moments.

"What are you wearing?" She asked them accusingly.

"Wha-?" Kyle began.

"I swear, the children these days. Running around with nothing on! You're going to get sick. You know in my day, if the children ran around like that, they'd be whipped by their parents!" The woman turned to go back into the house.

"Um, so do you have a vacancy?" Stan called after her.

"Get your things, and I'll go make up a room," she instructed, as she headed towards the stairs.

The two heaved their luggage into the house, and shut the front door behind them. The house was styled

like that of a typical grandma- floral patterns, tea cozies, lace doilies.

"You were right, Stan. We're in serious danger here. I doubt we'll live through the night," Kyle deadpanned.

"Hey, she could still try and bake us into a pie or something. Hansel and Gretel, hello?" Stan whispered as the elderly woman crept back down the stairs.

"You boys can rest on the couch right now. I'll make you some snacks."

Several minutes later she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and a small quantity of cucumber sandwiches on a tray. While they ate, she relayed them with stories of her late husband, Irving, and the days of her youth. Kyle listened with intent interest, but Stan was honestly just falling asleep. Once they had finished, she showed them to their room and retired for the night.

It wasn't until the two started unpacking their toothbrushes that they realized there was only one bed.

"Um," Kyle started hesitantly, "there's only one bed." He looked around the room for a couch or loveseat.

Stan just shrugged. "We'll deal."

Kyle's heart sped up a bit. The thought of sleeping alone with Stan electrified his nerves, although the situation would have been a lot nicer had they not hated each other.

The redhead ventured to bathroom to brush his teeth. He fretted about the snowstorm as he flossed. What if the weather wasn't clearer by tomorrow? They wouldn't make it to Denver in time, and worse, he would be stuck alone with Stan for longer than planned in that godforsaken truck. Kyle reviewed their brawl in the car. Shit, he had admitted falling for Stan hadn't he? The floss cut into his gums as he accidentally pulled too hard, and he spat blood into the sink.

Kyle glanced around the bathroom as he swished water in his mouth. There was a nice sized bathtub in the corner. It was white porcelain and had an old copper spout. Want overcame him.

"Hey Stan, taking a bath," he peeked out of the bathroom and called out. Stan grunted in response and continued to watch the weather forecast on the television. Kyle shut the door and shed his clothes. The bathroom was icy, and Kyle crouched by the tub as he waited for the hot water to fill it up. When it was full, the redhead nearly jumped in delight, and gingerly stepped in, one foot at a time.

It was perfect. Kyle sighed in contentment. The tub was spacious, and the redhead stretched his body out in the water. He played around for a while, feeling the waterline with his palm, walking his fingers along the rim of the tub. He thought of nothing. It was fantastic. The weightless and warmth nearly rocked him to sleep, until he was woken by the creak of the bathroom door opening.

"Sorry," Stan apologized. "Gotta brush my teeth." He motioned awkwardly to the sink.

The brunet stepped over Kyle's clothes, and the redhead curled up in the water, feeling uncomfortable. He was naked in the water, while Stan was fully clothed. He listened to the brunet brush and floss, and waited impatiently for Stan to leave. When the brunet was finished, he padded across the bathroom to the tub. Nervousness suddenly bubbled up within Kyle, and he drew his knees tighter together. Stan sat down on the tile with his back leaning against the tub. He sighed.

"So, the weather guy," Stan began, rubbing his face tiredly, "says that the weather will be off and on through the night. It might be clear for a while tomorrow morning, but a storm's supposed to hit Denver tomorrow afternoon."

Kyle groaned. "So when do we have to leave tomorrow?"

"Around eleven, I think. Fuck, this is bad."

The redhead hmm'd in agreement.

Stan fidgeted slightly and readjusted himself so that he was kneeling, facing the tub. His head rested on the porcelain rim, and he brought one arm around to dip his fingers in the warm bath water. For a few minutes, Stan pensively watched his fingers flex in the water, before lifting his eyes to watch Kyle. The redhead was also watching Stan's fingers, with half-lidded eyes.

"I wanna come in," Stan announced.

Startled, Kyle glanced up at the brunet, and meant to reply with 'absolutely not,' but what came out of his mouth was, "Sure, Ok."

Stan stood and pulled his tee-shirt over his head smoothly. Kyle shifted slightly in the water. Watching the brunet strip made the redhead's body feel electrified. He scooted down towards the front of the tub and twisted around so that he was facing Stan. He hugged his knees to his chest. The brunet slid into the warm water and sat, knees bent, facing Kyle. He playfully nudged Kyle's shin with his foot, and the redhead smiled.

The two joked lightly for a while, before Stan licked his lips and asked, "Hey Ky. You know how you said you slept with that kid?"

A tinge of dread enveloped Kyle. "Yea…" the redhead answered slowly and suspiciously.

The brunet's face was crimson as he nervously asked, "Um. What …was that like?" Stan felt ridiculously stupid asking the question, but his curiosity couldn't be contained.

At this, Kyle raised one eyebrow. That was not what he had been expecting. The redhead shrugged his shoulders.

"It…hurt. But it was also kind of nice. I don't know."

"Oh," Stan replied awkwardly. "Tell me about France," the brunet asked, changing the subject.

The redhead laughed and narrated stories of some of the most ridiculous customs Stan had ever heard. The brunet laughed heartily and extended his legs, so that they rested on either side of Kyle's balled up form. The redhead shyly shifted closer to Stan. Kyle's heart was beating quickly, and he was hyper-sensitive to every movement and touch. The brunet seemed to understand and he pulled the redhead closer. Kyle was sitting between Stan's open legs, and, with a flushed face, he slowly lifted his legs and folded them around Stan's waist. The brunet dragged Kyle close, so that their naked hips were pressed together. The redhead wrapped his arms around Stan's neck.

Kyle thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The sensation of Stan's slick, wet hips against his own made him breathless. The redhead buried his nose in Stan's neck, as the other trailed his fingers down Kyle's back. Stan's hands slid down to the other's hips, then ass, and pushed Kyle up against his body. The redhead tried not to gasp. His head was swimming, and he instinctively rolled his hips against Stan's. The brunet groaned, and tried to hold Kyle closer, if that was possible.

The redhead could feel Stan hardening against himself, and that notion flooded his body with heat. He tightened his grip around Stan's waist with his legs. Kyle moved his hips again. Stan thrust back. Soon they had a messy rhythm, as Kyle clung desperately to Stan, both of them panting heavily. Kyle left soft kisses and nips on Stan's neck as they moved. Then the brunet grabbed Kyle's hair and gently pulled his head back, so that Kyle was looking straight at Stan. The brunet nearly came at the sight of Kyle's face. The redhead's lips were swollen and parted and his cheeks were flushed. His pupils were dilated and his hair was messed up. Stan brought one hand down and placed the tip of his index finger on Kyle's lips. The redhead took Stan's finger into his mouth and sucked softly, closing his eyes.

"Fuck, Kyle," Stan groaned out. He thrust harder against Kyle.

"Stan," the redhead breathed out in a high-pitched gasp.

He then shuddered and came, Stan following a few moments later. Kyle slumped against the other, trying to regain his breath. The redhead was shaking slightly, and Stan held him close. After a few minutes, Kyle untangled himself from Stan and looked around. The bath water was now lukewarm and cloudy. The redhead made a face.

"Fuck that's gross," he remarked. Stan shrugged his shoulders in response. Kyle jumped out of the water and grabbed a towel, Stan following suit.

The two dressed in their pajamas- just boxers, and slid under the covers. They watched a late night comedy on the television, which was hilarious in their state of exhaustion.

At one point Stan looked over at Kyle. His fingers toyed with redhead's hair, then trailed down to tilt Kyle's chin towards his own. The brunet was leaning down, when Kyle frowned suddenly and turned his head away. Stan retracted his hand slowly in confusion.

Kyle fell asleep a little before two, and Stan shut off the television. The redhead's back was facing him, and Stan moved closer to place a chaste kiss on the back of the other's neck, before falling into blissful sleep.

Stan awoke slowly the next morning. Kyle was not in bed with him. The brunet felt Kyle's side of the bed. It was cold; he must have woke a while ago. Dressing hastily, he emerged from the room to the sounds of the hissing stove and pleasant chatter between Kyle and the old landlady. The house smelled of bacon and burnt toast.

The brunet checked his appearance in the hallway mirror before heading down. There was a collection of small red hickies on one side of his neck. Stan felt giddy and warm as he fingered them. He entered the kitchen shyly. Kyle was sitting on the counter enjoying a peach, while talking to landlady as she sat with a mug of tea. Stan caught the redhead's eye just as he was taking another bite of fruit. Kyle blushed behind his peach.

"Well good morning," the woman greeted Stan.

"Good morning," Stan responded. The lady fixed an amused stare on Stan's hickies, and the brunet blushed.

There was bacon, toast, yogurt, and sliced fruit on the kitchen table. Stan grabbed a glass of orange juice and nibbled on a piece of burnt toast with butter.

"I made the toast," Kyle admitted when Stan made a face at the burnt bread. The brunet snickered.

After breakfast, Kyle packed his and Stan's things up while the brunet called his parents. They paid and tipped the old lady, and were just about to start up the car, when she came back out carrying two brown paper bags. They were filled with lunch- cheese sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil, apple slices, some carrots, and two lemon tarts. She looked at the boys and grabbed Kyle's wrist.

"Look at this. Do your parents even feed you? Kids these days," she muttered. Kyle laughed and thanked

her for the lunch and the stories.

"You boys drive safely now," she warned and headed back into the house.

It was 11:30, and they were back on the road. There were huge storm clouds on the horizon, and Stan and Kyle drove straight towards them as they headed for Denver.

(End- TBC...)

*Elle baise bien: essentially means 'she fucks well,' with the verb baiser meaning to kiss, but used in slang as to fuck

Elle est une sacrée baiseuse: is more like she's a great fuck, or a hell of a fuck, with the noun baiseuse most closely meaning 'a woman who fucks'

See, you learn something new everyday. Your welcome.

Review please! I promise it will make me update faster. Oh! And thank you **endmysoup, **your especially generous review made me stop in the middle of my senior summer and write this chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys. I'm sorry its been so long. My life is a whirlwind. Oregon is cold as fuck right now.

So, I had this wedding scene all planned out, but once I started writing it, I couldn't make it work. I tried every which way, but the result was a horrific case of writer's block. So I took the whole wedding scene out, and I'm finally able to write again. I'm sorry to any of my readers that might have been excited for the wedding? It wasn't crucial to the plot anyway.

Thanks for last chapter's reviews!

XXX

Stan was pissed. No. He was beyond pissed. He was furious as he zeroed in on the tall blonde making Kyle laugh four bar stools down. The offending intruder was broad-shouldered, with perfect teeth and a cheek bone-jaw line combination to die for. Mr. Unwelcome, Stan had dubbed him angrily, had swooped in, bought Kyle a sidecar-shaken- and lured the redhead into much-too-friendly conversation before Stan could even stop flirting with the voluptuous brunette beside him, and put his foot down.

Aforementioned girl prattled on without Stan's attention, licking her lips and flipping her hair. Stan turned back to her momentarily. The short, tight dress, those legs, her pursed red lips- fuck she was a gorgeous specimen. Stan felt her gentle hand on his knee, and he took a long sip of cool water, considered sleeping with her, and the subsequent ramifications. It was tempting, he thought, as he eyed the fantastic curve of her hip and listened to her throaty laugh. It was so tempting.

They were in the hotel bar, a rather swanky lounge with dim lighting and mirrors and contemporary looking furniture. An hour or so ago, they had been in a small church in the city for Stan's aunt's wedding.

Stan sighed inwardly, and tenderly removed her hand. He missed the way the girl frowned and swallowed harshly, as he turned back to look at Kyle. Mr. Unwelcome stood frightfully close to his best friend, his thumb covertly caressing the bottom of Kyle's ass. The redhead didn't look entirely comfortable anymore.

Stan gritted his teeth and stood briskly, retrieving his suit jacket from the back of his chair. He glanced quickly at the brunette girl; she was looking rather put off and embarrassed, glancing once up at him, and then down at the bar stool. Stan leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, and muttered a quiet, "you're beautiful," in her ear as he left.

Stan cleared his throat at his best friend and Mr. Unwelcome, as he maneuvered his way back into his jacket. Stan felt a tinge of triumph at the look of relief that overcame Kyle's face. After straightening his lapels, Stan threaded one hand between the redhead's, threw a smug smile at Mr. Unwelcome (who was looking down right pissed), and pulled the redhead out of the bar.

Hand in hand, Stan more or less marched Kyle and himself out into the hotel gardens. A light snow blanketed the ground, crunching under their dress shoes. Stan threw himself onto an icy bench and fished a cigarette out of his coat pocket, lighting it with difficulty in the breeze. He took two quick drags, then watched the smoke curl out from his lips in a stream. Kyle sat down closely beside the other.

"Why do you let people do that to you?" Stan asked in between drags.

"Do what?" Kyle responded, trying to kick some snow at a bird.

"That guy. He was all on you and you didn't do anything."

"I don't know. He bought me a drink, I was just being polite and stuff," Kyle answered defensively.

"Thats bullshit," Stan informed him. "You just don't fucking know how to say no."

The redhead scoffed and scuffed at the snow with his shoes.

"Of course I do. I just didn't wanna start anything."

"Uh huh," The brunette responded with a smirk. He disposed of the cigarette in the snow and shifted his body so that he was pressing Kyle against the bench.

"Say no," he demanded flippantly.

"What?" Kyle asked, trying to inch out of Stan's grasp. The brunette leaned in closer, titling his head and holding the redhead's neck, thumb just under his jaw.

"Say no," he repeated, holding the redhead in place. His warm lips were almost touching Kyle's.

"Ummm," the redhead whispered, his mind clearly in a fog, his eyes half lidded. Stan's warmth was so close and felt so nice.

"Tell me to stop, Ky," Stan muttered against the redhead's lips.

Kyle's eyes slipped shut, and he moved to press his lips to Stan's, however, the brunette pulled away with a devious grin and a snarky, "Told you."

The redhead growled and stood up, heading back into the hotel, Stan following with a snicker.

XXX

The six of them were at a faux-posh restaurant in the city- Randy, Sharon, Stan, Kyle, Stan's aunt Deborah, and her new husband Rick. The restaurant was lit with strings of dim Christmas lights, highlighting the trite paintings of grapes, and anything else considered to be French, on the burgundy walls.

They were seated in a far corner, talking loudly over glasses of wine; Randy had managed to persuade the waiter to fill Stan's and Kyle's glasses as well, much to their indifference.

Deborah twirled a lock of her un-tastefully dyed red hair around a manicured finger, while complaining about co-workers with Sharon. Rick, despite the mullet and horrendous mustache, debated somewhat coherently with Randy about the fundamentals of global warming, and its geological consequences. Stan and Kyle were sketching filthy drawings on a stolen menu, passing it between them under the table. The brunette slid one onto Kyle's lap, who glanced at it briefly, then tipped back his glass of wine with ease. It was Stan's rendition of Wendy and Cartman being- the redhead shuddered- intimate. He gagged quickly, and flung the menu back at his friend.

Stan proceeded to begin on a new drawing, when he was interrupted by Kyle's misfortune.

"Ya see," his aunt began in a nasally voice, pointing an acrylic nail at Kyle's head, "I always wanted his color hair. Sharon, isn't it gorgeous? Kyle baby, come here."

She leaned over the table to finger a lock of his hair appreciatively.

"I can never get it this color," she muttered. "Baby, I gonna need to cut a strand for a reference color, kay doll?" she cooed. Kyle looked terrified, and Stan decided to relieve him of his pain this time.

Standing up and straightening his coat, he announced, "Hey, I'm gonna go call Kenny. Wanna come?"

"Stan, were in the middle of a nice dinner!" Sharon scolded.

"It'll only be a second," Stan assured her. "Its important," he emphasized at her disapproving glare.

It was somewhere below 30, but higher than 0 outside, and Stan snaked a tentative arm around Kyle's waist. They spent several minutes prank calling Craig and Clyde, finally returning to the restaurant when no one else was picking up.

"Stan," Kyle called shyly, before they entered the building.

The brunette turned around and was met with Kyle's warm lips, as the redhead pressed upwards, hands gently on Stan's neck and cheek. It was quick- half a second- but enough to make the brunette lose his footing.

Dinner passed smoothly. Kyle traded all the carrots in his steamed vegetables for Stan's broccoli. The brunette would smile at Kyle at random intervals throughout the meal, then brush his fingers over Kyle's knee affectionately.

After dinner, Stan's parents, aunt, and new uncle, parted ways from Stan and Kyle. They were going to some highly acclaimed play in the artsy section of the city.

Stan and Kyle clambered into Stan's car, and, after a brief war concerning their next whereabouts, settled on a movie at an old theatre down town.

The brunette bought the tickets- some obscure film about self-realization and love (a.k.a. every indie movie ever made). Kyle purchased the popcorn and drinks. They settled into their seats. Only another couple resided in the theatre, several rows up towards the front. They were silhouetted against the massive movie screen, and Kyle could make them out as an elderly couple.

The film began, and Stan took Kyle's hand in his own, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing Kyle's fingers. The redhead watched him, wide-eyed. The brunette then brought their hands down to sit on the armrest, and settle back into his seat. Kyle turned back to the screen, trying to control his breathing.

About half an hour in, the redhead still couldn't focus on the movie. He was too aware of his own body, Stan's warmth, their proximity. It was maddening, he thought, as he bit into his lips, swallowed dryly for the tenth time in a row, and tried to control the nervous bouncing of his knee.

Stan finally took notice of Kyle's behavior, sending a questioning glare at the redhead. The brunette's intense gaze was too much, and Kyle stood up, a little dizzy.

"I need some air," he whispered, and made a motion to leave.

Stan, however, caught his arm and pulled him back down into the seat, pushing up the armrest, and dragging the redhead closer to lean on Stan.

"Would you just calm down?" Stan asked in evident amusement.

Kyle melted against Stan, his head in the crook of the brunette's neck. If he turned his head, his nose nuzzled the place right under Stan's ear lobe. And that's just what he did. Placing small kisses right behind Stan's ear, Kyle snickered at Stan's valiant effort to continue watching the film. The brunette's eyes drifted shut, and he pulled Kyle closer with a low groan. Stan's fingers began to stroke the back of Kyle's neck, and the redhead, hiding in Stan's neck, inhaled the brunette's familiar scent and began to nip his way down Stan's jawline.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle's soft, careful lips made it to the corner of Stan's mouth, kissing once, twice, then full on the lips. The redhead was practically sitting in the other's lap by this time, and Stan slid his hands down to Kyle's hips to hold him in place, while Kyle placed exploratory kisses on his lips. Stan swiveled his head and parted his lips to take one of Kyle's between his own, heat pooling in their groins.

Stan opened to let their tongues collide, and Kyle pulled away, breathing heavily. There didn't seem to be enough air in the theatre anymore.

Kyle swallowed and shifted in Stan's lap.

"Lets lay down," he whispered shakily. The brunette nodded, and reached behind himself to push a couple of arm rests up.

Settling back on one elbow, Stan reached up to pull Kyle into another kiss. The redhead straddled Stan's hips shyly, a knee on either side of him. They oscillated between soft, affectionate pecks and intense, hurried bites and tongue swipes. They both tasted of buttery popcorn.

Kyle's head was swimming in heat and want, and he pulled at one side of Stan's hips. The brunette complied eagerly, and they managed to carefully swap positions with their lips interlocked. With the redhead beneath him, Stan took the opportunity to tip Kyle's head back and deepen their kiss, his hips rubbing slightly against Kyle's. The redhead emitted a strangled gasp, and parted his legs so that Stan rested between them. They moved against each other, intensity swelling, then tapering, then swelling again. The sounds of the movie became a distant echo in their hot, lustful world.

They had slowed to loving pecks by the time the movie ended. Stan lay his head on Kyle's chest, the redhead stroking his hair, until the credits ended and the lights returned. They sat up in a slow daze. The elderly couple was gone; they were alone in the dim theatre with a blank screen.

They stood up weakly and endured the cold all the way back to Stan's car. They returned to the hotel around the same time as Stan's parents.

"All right, well you boys behave yourselves. Stay out of trouble," Sharon advised while taking off her earrings in the bathroom.

Stan's parents were leaving tonight to drive back to South Park; Stan and Kyle were staying until Sunday. The four of them were currently in Randy and Sharon's hotel room as they packed. Randy zipped up his suitcase and set it by the door.

"Don't do anything stupid," Randy warned, then revised quietly, "Don't get caught."

"How was the movie, boys?" Sharon asked from bathroom.

"Excellent," Stan informed her. Kyle blushed and hid behind a game of Bejeweled on his cell.

"Oh, what was it about?"

Stan looked at Kyle quickly, hoping for some sort of clue.

"Love...and stuff," muttered Stan.

"Hmm," Randy replied as he switched the television on. "Sounds pretty faggy to me."

Stan mmm'ed in indifference.

After Randy and Sharon left, Stan flopped onto his hotel bed and watched music videos on his computer. Kyle had just left the room to phone his overprotective mother, when Stan's cell beeped with a message alert.

It was a text from Bebe, and judging from it, she was trashed. It read: "fuck yu. youra doushe for cheting with heidi. i lovde you."

He swallowed a foreign guilt he had never experienced before, and turned his phone off. Stan wallowed for several minutes before the sound of the hotel door opening removed him from his thoughts.

Kyle entered the bedroom with 3 or 4 tiny bottles of whisky from the mini bar dangling between his fingers. He smiled wickedly.

Stan, guilt pushed to the back of his mind for the moment, returned the smile and jumped off the bed, with an eager, "Hell yes."

XXX

TBC

I took the whole wedding scene out, so thats why this chap is short. But I figured that my readers would want a short chap now, instead of waiting for me to hash out a longer chapter. Next chap will _definitely_ not take as long as this one did.

Stuff will happen next chapter. You know, _that_ kind of stuff.


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